


The Calm Before the Storm

by MollyPollyKinz



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Also After Rebels Finale, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anakin did not sign up for another padawan, Angst, Cause you know...time travel, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt Ezra Bridger, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s05e16 The Lawless, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sometimes life is just unfair, Starvation, Time Travel Fix-It, Touch-Starved, neither did Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyPollyKinz/pseuds/MollyPollyKinz
Summary: Anakin didn't know what to expect when he found an obviously traumatized and tortured kid in the hallway of his apartment complex, but time travel was not one of them.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger & Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger & Anakin Skywalker, Ezra Bridger & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 132
Kudos: 572





	1. Anakin Was Not Expecting This

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in July, but it keeps calling my name, so I'm just going to toss it out here. I hope you enjoy.

_You know_ , Anakin thought to himself dryly, _I doubt this day could get any worse._

Obi-Wan had returned from Mandalore in a strange state, to say the least. Anakin knew what had happened, of course. Duchess Satine had been killed by Maul.

The rest of the council didn’t care. Why should they care about a neutral system’s leader? Of course, it was very concerning when Maul was running the place, but it ultimately wasn’t directly tied to the republic.

Anakin, however, knew exactly how much Satine meant to Obi-Wan, which is why he felt endless confusion when Obi-Wan calmly delivered his report and retired for the night.

“If Padme died,” Anakin muttered to Snips, who had figured things out long ago, “I’d probably tear a building down.” _At best,_ Anakin thought grimly to himself, recalling what he had done after his mother died.

“Do me a favor, Master,” Ahsoka muttered back, “Please, destroy an abandoned building.”

The Master and padawan duo winced when they heard a sudden clattering of a plate hitting the floor. Anakin saw a server hastening to pick it up.

The two of them were currently supervising a dinner party that Padme was hosting. Ahsoka didn’t have to come, but to quote her, she said, “I wouldn’t trust you to organize a small dinner, much less a party.”

“I’m great at making plans,” Anakin had protested.

Ahsoka had rolled her eyes at that. “Yeah, most of them end in explosions.”

Well, it wasn’t as if he were planning the party, but Anakin wouldn’t deny that it did feel comforting to have Snips on hand to do deliveries, especially after that one time with the fruit.

This time, there were no close calls, and the party was going without a hitch. Still, Anakin felt anxiety in the back of his mind regarding Satine. He should just leave Obi-Wan be. Anakin would likely only make things worse for his old Master.

Those thoughts didn’t get rid of the anxiousness he felt.

Ahsoka suddenly frowned and scrunched up her face. “Master, do you feel that?” she asked quietly.

“Feel what?” Anakin asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“The new force signature,” she said, “It feels _wrong.”_

Anakin focused on the force and focused on surrounding force signatures. He could feel Ahsoka right next to him. He could even feel Obi-Wan, who was in the Jedi Temple. Anakin’s old master was still awake it seemed, but Anakin couldn’t make out much apart from that. His connection was too clouded, especially from that far away.

And, on Padme’s floor of the apartment complex, he felt another signature. It was young, but Anakin didn’t recognize it at all, not even from when he was meditating in the temple. It was unusual, downright strange really, to find a force user who didn’t live in the temple.

The second thing of note about this force signature was the _pain_ Anakin could feel. This was not anguish or hurt or even anger. This was _agony._

“Yeah, I feel it, Snips,” Anakin said grimly, “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.”

Anakin walked out of the room. Ahsoka went over to Padme, presumably to tell her why Anakin was leaving the party prematurely.

Anakin’s mind raced, considering possibility upon possibility. Was it an attacker faking their signature? Anakin had heard of that happening before. He pulled out his lightsaber and gripped the familiar hilt tightly. He wouldn’t turn it on yet. Whoever was behind the force signature might be in actual agony, and having a lightsaber out was likely not going to help the situation.

Despite what Obi-Wan and Snips might think, Anakin _didn’t_ actually believe that all problems could be solved with a lightsaber.

If it turned out that it wasn’t an attacker, who could it possibly be? He’s not from the temple, that’s for sure. And what had happened to him to put him in such a state? Anakin hurried faster.

It seemed that Anakin was hurrying too quickly, however, because as he turned the corner, he ran into someone.

A young cry came from in front of him, and Anakin looked down to see a boy on the ground. He was younger than Anakin, maybe a little older than Snips, and certainly afraid. However, that’s not what made Anakin sick to his stomach.

The boy’s short, black hair was matted with blood. There were injuries all over the exposed parts of his tan skin, which was a lot, considering that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Twin scars underneath the boy’s right eye were the only sign of old injuries that Anakin could see on him.

Anakin knew immediately that this was the boy he was looking for. And he knew immediately that this was no attacker. Or, if he was, he was definitely no threat.

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked. It was a stupid question, but it was the only thing that Anakin could think of at that moment.

The boy opened his mouth, gaping. “Anakin Skywalker?” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Anakin bent over and helped the boy up. “Yep, that’s me,” Anakin said, “Stay awake for me, kid, can you do that?”

The kid nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I got this far.”

“How did you know to come here?” Anakin asked. Despite the obvious proof toward the contrary, the fact remained that Padme’s apartment wasn’t unique looking. Why hadn’t the boy gone to the temple or a hospital?

“You were the closest force signatures,” the boy said quietly, “I recognized Ahsoka’s.” He closed his eyes. “I _knew_ it felt younger.”

Anakin had a feeling the boy hit his head too hard. Unfortunately, the fact that the boy knew Ahsoka triggered alarm bells in his mind. Ahsoka clearly hadn’t recognized him.

“First of all, keep your eyes open. Second of all, how do you know Ahsoka?”

The boy frowned. “I knew her,” he said as if it were obvious, “She won’t recognize me, though.”

Anakin realized that he was not going to get any proper answers out of this kid, and he needed to be taken to the med bay.

“Alright, well, I’m going to take you to the med bay, so—”

The boy stiffened. “He’s back,” the boy whispered, suddenly clinging tightly onto Anakin’s robes, “Don’t leave me.”

“Kid, those ribs are looking a bit broken, I might have to leave so that the droids—”

“Please,” the boy begged, “Please, if you leave, he’ll find me and then take me and I’ll be back in that horrible place. He keeps _asking,_ but I can’t tell him—"

“Who?” Anakin asked gently, still walking the direction of the apartment complex’s med bay, which would likely be empty at this hour.

Most went to the emergency room at this time at night. Still, the kid was clearly afraid of something, and Anakin knew how to treat injuries. He could patch him up if necessary.

The kid shuddered. “Darth Sidious,” he muttered, “Emperor—” He opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes became glassy. Suddenly, the kid’s breathing quickened.

Okay, it was _very_ necessary.

“Kid, you need to take deep breaths for me,” Anakin said, trying not to panic, “In and out.”

The boy did so, but the glassiness in his eyes didn’t go away. “It’s hard, Kanan,” the kid muttered.

Oh no. Clearly, the kid was not in his proper state of mind. Anakin has seen war shock. Heck, _he_ had war shock. The kid clearly had some too. Anakin vaguely wondered who Kanan was.

“I know, buddy,” Anakin said, “I know. Just breathe with me.”

And that was how Anakin found himself sitting in the hallway with a hyperventilating teenager. The kid wasn’t stopping, so Anakin gently grabbed the kid’s mangled arm and rested it on Anakin’s chest, hoping that the kid would get the message. If the kid didn’t start taking deep breaths soon, he was going to end up with a collapsed lung.

Eventually, the kid’s breathing slowed. They sat still for a while, both of them essentially meditating on the hallway floor. Of course, Anakin still had his eyes opened, so it wasn’t quite the same thing.

“You alright?” Anakin asked softly.

The kid nodded. “Yeah, I…please don’t leave me.” The kid looked up at Anakin with pleading blue eyes.

Anakin nodded. “I won’t leave you,” he agreed, “How about I do something about your wounds, though?” He gestured to the boy’s entire body.

The boy nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed. He glanced around warily as if he was expecting someone to jump out at him suddenly.

No one, in fact, jumped out at them. They made it safely to the med-bay, but the boy’s eyes were still darting around everywhere, warily inspecting every corner. Anakin found himself glancing around warily in response to the kid’s panic.

“Alright,” Anakin said, heaving the kid onto the examination table, “The first thing to do is to identify all of your injuries.”

He searched the room and found a medical scanner. It wasn’t an x-ray, but it would work. Man, he wished he had a droid here. Then again, Anakin didn’t know if a droid would be triggering to the kid, so maybe it was for the best.

Anakin picked up the scanner and turned toward the kid, who flinched.

“This is a scanner,” Anakin explained, “I’m going to use it to figure out what your injuries are.”

The kid nodded, and Anakin activated the scanner. The kid full-body flinched when the holographic display touched him, but he calmed down upon realizing that he couldn’t feel anything.

Anakin looked down at the results and started. This kid was in _bad_ shape. First of all, he was severely malnourished, which Anakin could honestly see for himself. He could count the poor kid’s ribs.

Second of all, along with the fractured ribs, the kid had a concussion. Fortunately, he did not have any incorrectly healed bones. He did, unfortunately, have various burns scattered all over his body, as well as cuts and lightsaber wounds.

Honestly, it was a miracle the kid was still alive, let alone able to walk on his two feet. It was also a miracle that the kid managed to escape, considering that he said _Darth Sidious_ of all people had custody over him.

“Alright, kid,” Anakin sighed, “You’re going to need to start taking deeper breaths. Your ribs aren’t out of position, but deep breaths are the best way to take care of them. Actually, let me get you some pain killers.”

Anakin searched for painkillers that wouldn’t be damaging to the concussion and vaguely realized that he was severely unqualified for this. Unfortunately, the kid would likely not trust anyone else.

“He could notice,” the kid whispered, “He could come for me.”

“Not when I’m here,” Anakin said firmly, handing the kid the pills, “I’m powerful. I can stop him.”

Well, he hadn’t quite stopped him that one time he fought the Sith, but he had gotten close. Besides, he was just saying what the kid needed to hear.

The kid nodded, looking doubtful. However, that didn’t stop him from swallowing the pain killers.

Anakin sighed. “Okay. I’m going to assume you won’t appreciate being put in a bacta tank?”

The boy shook his head frantically. It made sense, honestly. He wouldn’t be conscious in a bacta tank, which means he wouldn’t even know if he were taken back by the Sith Lord.

“Okay,” Anakin said, “You don’t have to. I’ll just heal you up on my own. First, I’m going to put an IV in you. Will that be alright? I don’t think your stomach can handle anything more than the pills right now.”

The kid nodded with a grimace. He was still glancing around warily, but Anakin noticed that he was taking some deep breaths. That was good.

After inserting the IV, Anakin grabbed some bacta patches and ointment. “Okay, I’m going to treat some of your wounds now.”

The kid nodded. He was staring at the IV, looking somewhat misty-eyed. Anakin decided not to ask about it.

“So, kid,” Anakin said as he started dressing the first cut on the kid’s back, “What’s your name? I never asked.”

“Spector 6,” the kid said in an automatic tone.

“Are you okay with giving me your real name?” Anakin prompted, knowing that he not going to be capable of calling the kid by that ‘name.’

The kid stiffened and shook his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he muttered, “Just, give me a bit.”

“Okay,” Anakin said, “Don’t push yourself. Will you be okay if I call you Specs?”

The kid snorted and winced. “I’ve heard worse.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I nicknamed my Padawan Snips her first day on the job. Let me tell you, she was the snippiest togruta I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Really?” Specs asked quietly. Anakin noticed that his face flickered with a smile for half a moment.

“Yep,” Anakin said, “I didn’t really want her, to be honest. It was all a part of Obi Wan’s elaborate plot to get me a Padawan. Somehow, it managed to work.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Specs asked.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, “He’s back at the temple. The only reason I’m here is because I had to supervise a senator’s party. You see, she has a habit of getting attacked, so Snips and I are here to supervise.”

“You’re not supervising anymore,” Specs observed.

Anakin placed a patch on one of the nastier looking cuts. “Yeah, well, Snips has handled assassination attempts before, and you need me far more than she does. I bet she’s relieved to not have me hovering over her anymore.”

“Well, I don’t think she minds as much as she thinks she does,” Specs said insightfully. Anakin once again wondered who in the galaxy this boy was.

“So, have you been trained in the force?” Anakin asked casually.

The boy’s face darkened, and for a moment, Anakin feared he had said something wrong. However, it seemed his fears were only somewhat unfounded when Specs spoke.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I, um, had a master. He’s gone now.”

Anakin wasn’t sure what to say to that. He recalled that time Obi-Wan faked his death. He didn’t really remember what he wanted to hear from others. Nothing, really. All he was set on was revenge. Still, something told Anakin that this kid needed to hear _something_ from him.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, “I know what loss feels like.” He wanted to ask who was training a Jedi Padawan without ever going to the temple, but Anakin knew it was a bad time for those questions. Instead, he began to put ointment on the boy’s burns.

“He was great, though,” Specs said, his voice perking up only slightly, “He, uh, he stayed by my side, even after I had done some…not great things. We had a bit of a rough patch, but we worked through it.”

“He sounds like a good master,” Anakin said, being reminded of Obi-Wan and his patience with Anakin.

“Yeah,” the boy said, “When I was younger, he thought I had died.” He gestured to the twin scars on his cheek. “I had fallen off a platform too, so he had plenty of reason to think I was dead. He managed to defeat the in—the guy attacking us, though. That was nice.”

There was something the boy was hiding, but Anakin knew it had to wait for later. Unfortunately, everything this kid was saying continued to fill his curiosity to the brink.

“I wasn’t like him, though,” Specs continued quietly, his body sagging, “He let his grief fuel his power. I just ran.”

“I’m sure nobody blames you,” Anakin reassured him, “Everybody deals with grief differently. I’ve handled it worse than you have.”

Specs didn’t ask, so Anakin didn’t elaborate. It was one of his most shameful moments. He just killed an entire society. All of them out of vengeance for his mother.

Some say he was justified for his actions. Even he himself thought that sometimes. But in his heart of hearts, Anakin knew better. Not only was it not the Jedi way, it wasn’t _right._

They spent the rest of the treatment in silence. Anakin had to ask the kid to change into a hospital gown so that he could deal with his legs, and he did so quietly without complaint.

“Okay, you’re good to go,” Anakin said, “Or, at least, you’re as good to go as you possibly can under my medical expertise. Do you want to change back into some clothes?”

Specs nodded and put his pants back on. Anakin took off the outer layer of his uniform and gave it to the kid.

“You're shivering,” Anakin informed him, “You need layers.”

The kid nodded and shoved the black robe on. It looked good with his black hair, Anakin had to admit.

“Okay, kid, drag your IV with you,” Anakin told Specs, “You still need those nutrients.”

“Where are we going?” the teen asked, slightly less subdued than he was earlier.

“To our-to Senator Amidala’s apartment,” Anakin said, “She’ll be more than happy to lend you a room, but we’re going to have to sneak in. Her party shouldn’t be over yet.”

The kid furrowed his eyebrows. “But, we’ve been gone for hours,” he said, dragging his IV down the hall, “How long could a party possibly last?”

Anakin laughed. “That’s how I felt when I first came to Coruscant. You’d be surprised by how long politicians party. Honestly, I’m not sure they sleep most of the time.”

Specs shook his head. “They sleep,” he said, “Just during their time off. There’s this one governor I knew, and he only slept when he was visiting my parents.” The boy’s frown deepened, and he suddenly looked very tired, which was saying something, since the kid already looked like death.

Anakin gathered that either the governor or the parents were no longer around anymore. He decided not to ask.

“Well, they manage to get a couple of hours during the night as well,” Anakin said.

Anakin stopped when they reached the entrance to Padme’s complex. “Alright, we’re going to do this as quietly as possible, okay? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“I can do stealthy,” Specs agreed.

The two of them snuck through the front entrance and dodged the party completely and successfully. Anakin led Specs to the spare bedroom and turned on the light.

“Lie down on that bed,” Anakin instructed the boy, “I’m going to get—”

The kid grabbed onto the sleeve of Anakin’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, Master Skywalker, but I can’t go back.”

Anakin was spared having to com Ahsoka, however, because the door opened to reveal none other than Padme Amidala. She had her hands on her hips, but there was concern etched all over her beautiful face.

“Ani, what took you so long? Why didn’t you return to the party? Ahsoka said that there was someone else here, was there an attacker?”

Padme was being a little too informal with Anakin right now. He raised his arms up calmly. “Everything’s fine, Senator,” Anakin said.

Padme gave him a quizzical look, and Anakin nodded toward the boy sitting next to him.

Padme opened her mouth in shock for a moment before collecting herself. “I’m Senator Amidala,” she said, “Who are you?”

“Spector 6,” Specs said in the same automatic tone he gave Anakin. He flinched, but nothing happened. “Sorry,” the boy muttered, “He wanted to know my name, but I wouldn’t tell him.”

 _Oh._ That made a lot of sense. The kid had ingrained his mind to not say his name so that he could withstand torture. It seemed the habit was hard to break.

“Also,” the kid twisted his fingers together nervously, “I’m sorry, Master Skywalker, Senator Amidala, I want to trust you, but…”

“That’s alright,” Padme said graciously, “Why did you come here?”

“Um…” Specs glanced up at Anakin, who was happy oblige.

“He escaped the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Anakin said, “I took care of his wounds, but he needs a place to stay.”

Padme nodded. “Of course, you can stay here,” she said, “I noticed Anakin wasn’t wearing all of his robes.” She turned back to Anakin. “I’m assuming he doesn’t want to be alone?”

Anakin smiled for a moment. It was just like Padme to understand how people were feeling.

Anakin shook his head apologetically. “I really don’t blame him,” he said, “If you need me to go out, he might be comfortable with Snips. He seems to know her.”

“She won’t remember me,” the boy said quietly.

“But you’ll still be comfortable with her?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah,” he said slowly.

Anakin could read between the lines. _He was comfortable around Ahsoka, but he felt safer with Anakin._ That made sense. Anakin was a fully trained Jedi Knight. Ahsoka was still a Padawan.

“I don’t need you for anything urgent right now,” Padme told Anakin. She clearly was also perfectly able to read between the lines. “But I’ll grab Ahsoka so they can become familiar.”

Padme left the room and came back with Ahsoka a few moments later. She looked somewhat alarmed, but her shock didn’t increase upon seeing a teenager lying on the guest bed.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano,” Ahsoka said, smiling slightly, “What’s your name?”

For the first time since Anakin met the boy, he smiled, and tears began running down his face. “I’m Ezra Bridger,” he said, “It’s good to see you again.”


	2. Ezra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t like Ezra had tried to get captured. It was completely accidental.
> 
> Well, it was also because Ezra hadn’t thought to observe his surroundings. But, let’s be realistic, could anyone really blame him? He had just jumped into hyperspace with Thrawn and died...probably.
> 
> Ezra thought that was the end of it.
> 
> Instead, the force had decided to resurrect him in _kriffing-Emperor Palpatine's office_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's been so supportive so far! I didn't expect things to go so well so soon! You're all amazing, thank you. :) 
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter, so I hope you like it.

It wasn’t like Ezra had tried to get captured. It was completely accidental.

Well, it was also because Ezra hadn’t thought to observe his surroundings. But, let’s be realistic, could anyone really blame him? He had just jumped into hyperspace with Thrawn and died.

No, he did not know how he died. Ezra didn’t remember, and he supposed there was a small chance that something else was going on. But, in all honesty, that’s the only thing Ezra could assume happened.

Ezra thought that was the end of it.

Unfortunately, the Force decided not to be that kind.

Instead, the next thing Ezra knew, he was standing in a room full of red carpet. Large windows overshadowed a huge city outside. But Ezra didn’t exactly care about any of that.

Emperor Palpatine was standing right in front of him, using the facade of a younger face that Ezra had seen on the hologram before.

The force had decided to resurrect him in _kriffing-Emperor Palpatine's office._

Immediately, Ezra reached for his lightsaber. His hand closed on thin air. Kriff, he forgot that he didn’t have his lightsaber. Honestly, he’d probably never see it again.

Well, being weaponless didn’t stop Ezra from calling upon the force, pushing the Sith back, and running.

Palpatine’s guards got to him first. Their strong hands held onto Ezra’s arms painfully enough to create bruises. Ezra kicked and pushed with both the force and his physical strength, but he froze upon feeling a terrible, cold sensation.

Using the Dark Side, the Emperor had rendered Ezra unable to move. Ezra had almost forgotten how strong it was.

Palpatine had demanded to know why Ezra had attacked him.

“Seems pretty obvious to me. Maybe because you’re an evil Sith lord who’s killed thousands?” Ezra had growled, struggling to free himself from the Emperor’s iron grip in the force.

Palpatine had not liked that.

Ezra wasn’t sure how long he had been in that prison. ‘A very long time’ was the only metric he could come up with. It couldn’t have been _too_ long because his hair hadn’t grown out very far. It was barely past his ears. But it was long enough for Ezra to wish he were dead.

One day, Ezra woke up feeling more focused than he had ever felt before. He wasn’t sure if it was just because he had thrown up his drugs one time too many, or if the force intervened for him, or what.

What Ezra _did_ know, however, was that he had a stronger connection to the force than he had since he had been placed in this prison. It hummed—practically sang, really—with energy, just begging Ezra to use it.

Wasting no time, Ezra got into a meditative position and felt his surroundings thorugh the force. Darth Sidious was nowhere nearby, maybe not even on the planet, if he was lucky.

This was his chance. This was quite possibly his _only_ chance.

Adrenaline allowing him to ignore the pain that encompassed him, Ezra reached out with the force and lifted both of guards standing outside his door. Before they could do anything, Ezra slammed them onto the ground with a loud thud, knocking them out cold.

He had tried this before, on his first day in prison. He had tried to get to the Jedi Temple and explain, but Palpatine had still been in the building.

It hadn’t ended well.

He had a chance this time, and he took it with no intention of letting go. Ezra used the force to open the door and _ran_ for it.

His heart beat rapidly as he prayed to the force that Palpatine wouldn’t be back anytime soon. That he wouldn’t notice that his prisoner was gone.

Ezra ran faster than ever before as he once again searched for force signatures, trying to figure out who he could find the fastest.

There were two signatures in the building nearby. One of them was certainly Ahsoka’s, but it was strange. Her signature felt more youthful than he recalled it ever being.

He was in too much of a panic to worry too much about it. Ezra was a Jedi in the heart of the Empire. He needed to get to some semblance of safety.

Ezra boarded a transport, not once letting go of his awareness of his surroundings. Palpatine hadn’t returned yet. Ezra was fine. There was nothing to be concerned about yet.

That didn’t calm the beating in his chest or the pain all over his body.

After what felt like _years_ , Ezra stepped—or limped—off of the transport and into the building. Ahsoka was nearby. If Ezra could get to her, it would be alright.

He was aware of the other force signature next to her, but he didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t a dark signature, so it didn’t matter. Not even if it was heading toward him.

Wait, what?

The next thing Ezra was aware of, he was on the cold ground, looking up at an adult male. He was wearing robes that were traditional of the Jedi, and he looked shockingly similar to—

“Anakin Skywalker,” Ezra breathed out quietly.

And suddenly, everything made sense. It explained why the Emperor was so insistent on knowing Ezra’s name, and why he didn’t seem to recognize Ezra at all, despite having talked to him in the past.

Ezra was suddenly very grateful he decided to protect the residents of Lothal. If he had given the Emperor his name, he likely would’ve gotten his entire family killed.

“Yep, that’s me,” Skywalker said, helping Ezra up, “Stay awake for me, kid, can you do that?”

Skywalker looked nothing like Darth Vader. How did this man become one of the most feared men in the galaxy?

Well, was Darth Vader even a man? He seemed more robot than man. It didn’t really matter, in the end.

Master Skywalker was still speaking to him. “—Stay awake for me, kid, can you do that?”

Ezra nodded, trying to ignore the pain that was growing in his head and the rest of his body.

“Yeah,” he said, “I got this far.”

“How did you know to come here?” Skywalker asked, his voice sounding exactly like the recording on Kanan’s holocron.

“You were the closest force signatures,” Ezra muttered, “I recognized Ahsoka’s.” Ezra closed his eyes, maintaining his connection to the force. “I _knew_ she felt younger.”

Well, he had defined it as youthful, but close enough.

“First of all, keep your eyes open,” Skywalker commanded. Ezra obeyed, snapping his eyes open so quickly that he blinked at the light of the hallway. “Second of all, how do you know Ahsoka?”

Ezra wanted to close his eyes again; he felt so stupid. He wasn’t entirely sure if he should keep his time traveling status a secret, so he just decided to keep it ambiguous.

“I knew her,” Ezra said simply, “She won’t recognize me, though.”

The thought sent a pang through Ezra’s chest. All of the time he had spent with Ahsoka, getting to know her, forming a bond with her. All of it was gone.

Then again, Ahsoka was way younger in this time period. Her personality might be completely different. Maybe Ezra wouldn’t feel like he was rebuilding a relationship with someone he already knew.

That was only sort of comforting.

Skywalker was speaking again. “Alright, well, I’m going to take you to the medbay, so—”

Suddenly, Ezra felt it. A shiver. A masked version of the cold Ezra had felt when he first confronted Vader. It was far more dangerous than Vader’s force signature. _Far more._

“He’s back,” Ezra whispered, fear overtaking him. He clung onto Skywalker’s soft robes. “Don’t leave me.”

He sounded like a child, but Ezra couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could care about was the accelerating beating of his heart, how it physically _pained_ his chest. All he could focus on was the burns that Palpatine would give him if Ezra was found again, about the pain and the horror and mind games…

“Kid, those ribs are looking a bit broken, I might have to leave so that the droids—”

“Please,” Ezra begged, “Please, if you leave, he’ll find me and then take me and I’ll be back in that horrible place. He keeps _asking,_ but I can’t tell him—"

Ezra couldn’t tell Sidious. He’d doom the entire galaxy and all of time if he were to do that. So, Ezra had stayed silent…and paid the price for it.

“Who?” Skywalker asked. He was taking Ezra somewhere, but Ezra didn’t care as long as _Skywalker_ _stayed._

Ezra had acted this way with Kanan before. Sometimes, he would wake up from a nightmare about the Inquisitor, or Maul, or just about his life on the streets. They felt so real that Ezra would cling onto Kanan’s sleeve and beg him to stay with him.

Kanan would. Kanan was kind like that.

Kanan was _dead._

“Darth Sidious,” Ezra said automatically, having heard the name from the guards. He knew he needed to tell Anakin the man’s identity. He couldn’t withhold it. “Emperor—"  


_“Who did you say I was?”_ Palpatine asked dangerously.

 _“Palpatine,”_ Ezra said, like a cocky idiot, _“You’re a Sith Lord.”_

Ezra yelled out in pain when lightning coursed through his veins, burning everything…

Then, as soon as it began it ended. _“Palpatine is not a Sith Lord,”_ Palpatine said.

Ezra struggled from the guard’s grips. “ _Yes, you are!”_

More pain for longer this time. “ _Palpatine is not a Sith Lord,”_ Palpatine repeated.

Ezra understood. He wanted to resist, but he feared being completely brainwashed. _“You are not a Sith Lord.”_

Wrong answer. It turned out since Ezra was speaking to a Sith Lord, that using ‘you’ as an equivalent to ‘Palpatine’ was against what Palpatine wanted. It only sort of made sense to Ezra, but he wasn't the one making the rules. 

The pain was excruciating. He could escape it. He couldn’t leave it. It was consuming him.

“Kid, you need to take deep breaths for me,” someone was saying through the pain, “In and out.”

Ezra was having a flashback, wasn't he? Kanan must be helping him through it.

“It’s hard, Kanan,” Ezra muttered, trying to breathe with Kanan.

“I know buddy,” Kanan told him, “I know. Just breathe with me.”

And so they sat there, breathing together. Ezra drowned in memories of Palpatine’s torture and probing against his identity as a Sith Lord.

Fortunately, Ezra had made a barrier to his mind, a force trick that Kanan had been quick to teach him. Unfortunately, it meant that whenever Palpatine even eluded that he was a Sith Lord, he would torture Ezra into saying the contrary.

The only thing these methods succeeded in doing was making Ezra frightened of saying Palpatine and Sidious in the same sentence or paragraph or conversation. Ezra was sure the only reason he hadn’t been completely brainwashed into believing Palpatine wasn’t a Sith Lord was Palpatine’s complacency. It was only one session’s worth of torture, and Palpatine had stopped bothering the minute Ezra started flinching at Palpatine’s name being spoken.

Palpatine probably figured that Ezra would never find the opportunity to escape anyway. He thought wrong.

In the midst of these horrible musings, Ezra gathered himself enough to realize that Kanan was _dead,_ that he _couldn't_ be the one comforting him, and grief hit him like a wind storm.

 _Then_ , he realized that he had his hand on Anakin Skywalker’s chest, not Kanan’s. He wanted to be embarrassed, but Ezra was mainly relieved he wasn’t stuck with Palpatine.

“Are you alright?” Skywalker asked softly.

Not really.

“Yeah, I…please don’t leave me,” Ezra pleaded, looking up at Skywalker beseechingly.

Relief washed over him when Skywalker said yes. That didn’t stop Ezra from worrying that Palpatine was going to pop up at any second and take him away.

The trip to the medbay was largely uneventful, as was the actual medicating. Ezra started taking deeper breaths for his ribs, which wasn’t easy.

The good news was that Palpatine’s force signature hadn’t gotten closer, so Ezra felt slightly safer.

When Skywalker had asked for his name, Ezra had automatically replied with, “Spector Six.” It was the placeholder for whenever Palpatine decided he wanted to know Ezra’s identity, and saying it had become a force of habit.

“Are you okay with giving me your real name?” Skywalker had asked. Ezra didn’t blame him.

However, Ezra couldn’t help but be reminded of the Emperor’s demands, and he stiffened. The idea of saying his name filled him with an unstoppable dread, like something horrible would happen if he dared utter it.

Still, Ezra knew he would have to tell someone eventually.

“I’ll tell you later,” he muttered, “Just, give me a bit.”

“Okay,” Skywalker said, “Don’t push yourself. Will you be okay if I call you Specs?”

Ezra snorted before wincing at the new wave of pain that came with it. “I’ve heard worse.”

And he had. He had heard _way_ worse from his time on the streets. _‘_ Lothrat’ was a _mild_ insult on the streets of Lothal. And when gangs caught Ezra, ‘worthless runt’ was the kindest thing to come out of their mouths.

Skywalker seemed oblivious to these dark thoughts. “I’ll take that as a yes. I nicknamed my Padawan Snips the first day on the job. Let me tell you, she was the snippiest togruta I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Really?” Ezra asked, trying to imagine Ahsoka as snippy.

It didn’t fit, honestly. Sure, the Ahsoka he knew was slightly sassy, but only on rarer occasions. Still, it was funny to think of Ahsoka mouthing off at the future Darth Vader, and he retaliated by giving her a kinda cute nickname.

“Yep,” Skywalker said, “I didn’t really want her, to be honest. It was all a part of Obi Wan’s elaborate plot to get me a Padawan. Somehow, it managed to work.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Ezra asked.

Ezra hadn’t realized that Obi-Wan was connected to Ahsoka and Skywalker. Well, Rex had obviously known him. Maybe that should’ve been an obvious sign. Still, it made Ezra wonder…

“Yeah,” Skywalker said, “He’s back at the temple. The only reason I’m here is because I had to supervise a senator’s party. You see, she has a habit of getting attacked, so Snips and I are here to supervise.”

“You’re not supervising anymore,” Ezra observed. Obviously, but still.

“Yeah, well, Snips has handled assassination attempts before, and you need me far more than she does. I bet she’s relieved to not have me hovering over her anymore.”

It was at that moment that Ezra realized that he really _didn’t_ know that much about Ahsoka Tano. He knew a great deal about her in regards to being Fulcrum, a rebel, and a force user. He knew plenty about her adult life. But the only thing he knew about her past was that she was a used to be a Jedi who apprenticed under Anakin Skywalker.

Then again, Ezra didn’t know a lot about Kanan’s past either. Heck, Ezra hadn’t even known his real _name_ until recently _._

Regardless, he might not have known much about Ahsoka’s past, but he did know that Ashoka missed Skywalker greatly. She certainly had enjoyed his company, at any rate.

“Well, I don’t think she minds your company as much as she thinks she does,” Ezra said.

Skywalker asked him about training in the force, and Ezra found himself talking about Kanan. It was calming to talk about a once calming presence in his life.

It didn’t change how much it hurt.

Kanan was _dead._ Nothing he would do or say would change that. No matter what he did, Kanan would stay dead.

_Ezra ignored the little hopeful whisper of Caleb Dume, squashing it down as hard as he could. It wouldn't be the same. Ezra knew that. He shouldn't hope he can find solace in someone who didn't even know him._

When Kanan died, all Ezra had done was run. That was all he was good at, it seemed. He ran away from the Empire when his parents were taken. He ran away from responsibility when he was on the Ghost. He ran away from the light when Maul betrayed them. He ran from the Emperor.

He ran away from everything when Kanan died.

“I’m sure nobody blames you,” Skywalker reassured him, “Everybody deals with grief differently. I’ve handled it worse than you have.”

Ezra found himself doubting that. Then, he remembered that he was talking to the future Darth Vader. Maybe Skywalker _had_ dealt with his grief irrationally.

The rest of the treatment went by in silence. Palpatine was still nowhere near them. Skywalker gave him his outer robes, and Ezra put them on.

They were warm. Ezra found himself wondering why Kanan had ditched Jedi robes. Then, he realized that he was being stupid. Jedi robes were very obvious and would’ve gotten Kanan killed on the spot.

Ezra found that dragging an IV around was kind of difficult and annoying, but he obliged Skywalker and followed him to the apartment complex. They snuck in, and Skywalker led him to a guest bedroom.

It was nothing like his bunk on the ghost, or even like his old bedroom on Lothal. It was the fanciest room Ezra had ever been in. A large bed with silk sheets sat in the middle of the room, and that wasn’t even the fanciest part. Was everyone this rich on Coruscant? Probably not, but _still._

“Lie down on that bed,” Skywalker told Ezra, “I’m going to get—”

Ezra grabbed onto the sleeve of Skywalker’s robe. “Don’t leave,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, Master Skywalker, but I can’t go back.”

He really couldn’t go back. He couldn’t go back to the pain and the starvation and the fear that had awaited him with Palpatine. He could go back to the _torment_ and the _hallucinations_ that would await him if he went back.

Ezra heard footsteps and looked up to see that someone else had entered the room. It was a woman with one of the most elaborate hairstyles that Ezra had ever seen. Honestly, what was with this place?

“Ani, what took you so long? Why didn’t you return to the party? Ahsoka said that there was someone else here, was there an attacker?”

Did she just call Anakin Skywalker ‘ _Ani_?’

“Everything’s fine, Senator,” Skywalker said.

Ezra might’ve been horribly wounded, but he wasn’t blind. He didn’t miss the senator’s quizzical look and Skywalker’s nod in Ezra’s direction. Something was clearly going on between them. Were they involved romantically? Best friends? Why were they keeping it formal when it was so forced and faked?

The senator opened her mouth in what Ezra could only assume was surprise for a moment, but then collected herself. “I’m Senator Amidala,” she said, “Who are you?”

“Spector 6,” Ezra said in the same automatic tone he gave Skywalker.

Ezra flinched upon realizing that wasn’t answer expected of him. He half expected pain to come next. None did.

“Sorry,” Ezra muttered, “He wanted to know my name, but I wouldn’t tell him.”

There was a look on Skywalker’s face that seemed akin to understanding.

“Also.” Ezra twisted his fingers together nervously. “I’m sorry, Master Skywalker, Senator Amidala, I want to trust you, but…”

“That’s alright,” Senator Amidala said graciously, and why weren’t all politicians this nice? Sure, Senator Mothma was nice enough, but people like Travis and Price were awful. “Why did you come here?” she continued.

“Um…” Ezra glanced up at Skywalker, hoping he would explain. Ezra was tired of explaining, and he didn’t want to accidentally trigger a panic attack.

“He escaped the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Skywalker said, and wasn’t that news? Ezra hadn’t been aware that the Jedi had been actively searching for Palpatine before the purge. “I took care of his wounds, but he needs a place to stay.”

Senator Amidala nodded. “Of course, you can stay here,” she said, “I noticed Anakin wasn’t wearing all of his robes.” She turned back to Anakin. “I’m assuming he doesn’t want to be alone?”

Skywalker smiled in the same way Hera would smile at Kanan. _Yeah, there was something definitely going on here._

Skywalker shook his head apologetically. “I really don’t blame him,” he said, “If you need me to go out, he might be comfortable with Snips. He seems to know her.”

“She won’t remember me,” Ezra said quietly.

He didn’t mind that Skywalker was talking about Ezra right in front of him. In another life—in a life that still had Kanan and was free of torture, and loss, and fear—he might’ve been insulted. But, as it was, Ezra couldn’t bring himself to care.

“But you’ll still be comfortable with her?” Skywalker asked.

Well, he wasn’t _uncomfortable_ in Ahsoka’s presence, regardless of her age or personality. And he would be comfortable around adult Ahsoka because she could take down two inquisitors. He wasn’t sure a younger Ahsoka could take down two inquisitors.

Still, Skywalker was probably getting sick of him. Ezra was being clingy.

“Yeah,” he said slowly

“I don’t need you for anything urgent right now,” Senator Amidala told Skywalker. “But I’ll grab Ahsoka so they can become familiar.”

Senator Amidala left the room and came back with Ahsoka a few moments later. Ezra had finally laid down on the bed, which was so soft and squishy that Ezra wasn’t even sure if he could handle it.

Ahsoka was definitely different. First of all, her leku was smaller. Second of all, her outfit was red, which was kind of strange to look at. She carried herself differently. She had her arms crossed across her chest in such a way that she looked like she could rule the world. Ezra’s Ashoka was more aware of the inevitability of life.

“I’m Ahsoka Tano,” Ahsoka said, smiling slightly at Ezra, “What’s your name?”

It hurt, having to reintroduce himself to Ahsoka, but the relief of seeing a friendly face, regardless of how different and young it was in comparison, was so overwhelming that he didn’t care. For the first time in months, Ezra smiled. He barely registered the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m Ezra Bridger,” he said, instinctual trust pulsing through him, “It’s good to see you again.”

Ahsoka looked surprised at Ezra’s reaction. “Again?” she asked.

Ugh, that was Ezra’s mistake. He shouldn’t have said that. Ezra didn’t want to be accused of crazy if he said he came from the future.

“It’s a long story,” Ezra said simply.

“What happened to you?” Ahsoka said bluntly. Ezra winced. Man, Ahsoka had matured so much over the years.

“Um, Snips,” Skywalker said, “Ezra here was captured and tortured by the Sith Lord the council has been searching for.”

It was Ahsoka’s turn to flinch. “Ah…sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Ezra said, wiping his eyes, “I, um…” he thought for a moment. “…can’t think of anything clever to say.”

“I’ll think of something for you,” Ahsoka said. She scrunched up her face. “Nope, I can’t sass myself. Sorry.” She shrugged apologetically.

Ezra shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said, “I could never sass myself either.”

“So, if you were tortured by the Sith Lord, do you know anything else about him—” Ahsoka’s voice became muffled as Skywalker quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

“We can save the interrogation for _later_ ,” Skywalker hissed at Ahsoka.

Ahsoka raised her arms in surrender, and Skywalker let go of her.

“Sorry, sorry!” she said, “You should’ve warned me ahead of time.”

Skywalker pinched the bridge of his nose. “I forgot you were the same person who told me that I should be happy to be going home.”

Ahsoka sighed. “Look, when I’m not told things, I say the first thing that pops into my head.” She turned to Ezra. “Sorry, Ezra.”

“It’s okay,” Ezra said quickly.

“I’ve got to tell you.” Skywalker put his hands on his hips. “You are much more of an Ezra than a Specs.”

“I’m glad that you think my parents were so good at their job,” Ezra said dryly.

Skywalker shrugged. “Yeah, but Ahsoka’s parents missed out. Snips is a far better name than Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Well, your last name should be Skyguy, but look where we are now.”

“Anakin Skyguy,” Skywalker mused, “I’m not feeling it.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “It’s better than ‘Skywalker.’ What sort of last name is ‘Skywalker’ anyway?” Ahsoka crossed her arms again. “Who walks on the sky?”

“I don’t know. Does being able to fly a ship count?” Skywalker countered, smiling smugly at Ahsoka. “I mean, Ezra’s last name over here is Bridger. Does he make bridges?”

“I am actually good at making connections through the force,” Ezra said quietly, recalling the purgil.

Ahsoka gaped and glanced between Ezra and Anakin, looking somewhat insulted. “Well, what’s my last name supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“You have a tan?” Skywalker offered weakly.

Ahsoka scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to the party,” she said, “Good luck being stuck with this guy, Bridger.”

She left the room. Ezra noticed that Senator Amidala had already left; she must've been compelled to return to the party. That left Ezra alone with Skywalker. Once again, he didn’t mind.

Skywalker sat down on a cushioned chair next to the bed with a sigh. “Sorry about the banter. I can forget myself sometimes.”

Ezra shook his head, recalling how the Ghost crew used to behave. Then he remembered that he would probably never see the Ghost crew again. He leaned back into the pillows, which were _way too soft_.

“It’s fine,” Ezra whispered quietly.

“Do you want to get some sleep?” Skywalker asked quietly.

Ezra shook his head. He was too afraid of being caught by Sidious to sleep. His body rebelled with his decision, however, and he let out a large yawn.

“I promise I won’t leave while you sleep,” Skywalker said. He looked sincere, but this was the future Darth Vader. The future apprentice of the man who tormented him with mind games and lies and…

What if this wasn’t actually an escape? What if this was an illusion created by Palpatine? What if this was a punishment? And he would wake up in his cell and suffer more? How could he have assumed otherwise?

“You’re safe,” Skywalker was saying, his hands resting on Ezra’s shoulders, “I promise, you’re safe.”

Yeah, that’s what his parents had said when they hid him away and got arrested. Those were the words that followed him in the streets. They hadn’t done him any good.

Ezra shook his head. “Even if you’re telling the truth, you have no way of knowing that.”

“Okay, you don’t have to sleep,” Skywalker sighed, “But, could you at least rest on the bed?” 

“Are you trying to trick me into falling asleep?” Ezra asked, his voice somewhat hoarse from all the talking he had done today. (And the screaming he had done in the months before.)

“Only sort of,” Skywalker admitted, “But you won’t recover nearly as well if you don’t get any sleep.”

“I won’t recover at all if I wake up and I’m not here,” Ezra pointed out.

What if this was all a simulation? What if he gave up his name for nothing? This was the cleverest hallucination that Palpatine had come up with yet. Most of the time, he just made Ezra suffer his worst moments in an attempt to make his mental barrier more vulnerable.

It had never worked.

“You will,” Skywalker said.

“You’re not real,” Ezra replied, sitting up from his laying position, now thoroughly convinced of the true nature of this situation, “This is just another mind game.”

Skywalker frowned and sat next to Ezra on the bed. “I promise, I’m real.”

“You’re not,” Ezra said, “There’s no way for you to prove it.”

“I’m sure I can prove it,” Skywalker said calmly.

Ezra frowned. “How?” he asked. Ezra used all five senses in his hallucinations, and he used the force in them too. It was all just a masterful illusion, made by drugs.

“I’ll tell you something that there is no way the Sith Lord knows,” Skywalker said.

This sounded a lot like bluffing, but Ezra decided to play along with this illusion. “Alright, what is it?”

At that moment, the com on Skywalker’s wrist started beeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka's brain to mouth filter still needs a little development. But that's okay, because Ezra's just glad to see someone he recognizes. 
> 
> Anakin and Padme are once again being as subtle as a punch to the face.


	3. How to Create a Power Vacuum Overnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin handed Ezra a small bowl of rice. “You’ve been starved before?” Anakin asked in shock.
> 
> Ezra shrugged. “I used to live on the streets. Sometimes I couldn’t get my hands on enough food,” he muttered, “It’s no big deal.”
> 
> Anakin barely stopped himself from pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Living on the streets and not getting enough to eat was apparently no big deal for this kid. Force, help him.

Anakin tried not to bristle. He was trying to get through to this kid. And sure, while he was mainly making up stuff in an attempt to relax the kid because _he_ knew this wasn’t an illusion, he still would’ve come up with _something_.

“Skywalker, pick up.” It was Master Windu.

“What is it?” Anakin asked, not getting up from the bed he was sitting on.

“Chancellor Palpatine requests your presence,” Windu said, “He says it is urgent.”

Just then, Ezra began _convulsing._ The kid grew as white as a sheet as he started shaking like he were a passenger in one Anakin's particularly happy landings.

“Kid?” Anakin said in surprise. Ezra didn’t respond. “Ezra!”

“Skywalker, are you listening to me?” Mace snapped over the com.

“Listen, Mace,” Anakin said urgently, “I’ve found this kid. He’s been imprisoned by the Sith Lord we’ve been seeking. Is it really _that_ urgent?”

“I’ll get back with you in a moment, Skywalker,” Windu said.

Anakin refocused his attentions on Ezra. “Ezra, listen to me. You’re fine.”

Ezra wasn’t seeing him. His eyes were glassy, and he flinched at Anakin’s words. “Chancellor Palpatine isn’t a Sith, I swear, I swear, _please_ ” he muttered under his breath.

Alarm bells immediately began blaring in Anakin's mind, and he reeled from the potential meaning behind those words. Still, it didn't matter if Anakin's friend was potentially a Sith Lord. Ezra needed him. 

“Ezra, nobody’s here. The chancellor isn’t here.”

“Please,” Ezra whimpered, clearly not hearing Anakin, “You aren’t a Sith lord. _Please.”_

Anakin tried to put his hands back on Ezra’s shoulders, but the boy winced away and continued shaking so badly that even Anakin started panicking. Anakin took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to panic right now.

“Windu,” Anakin said over the coms, “Where are you?”

“On my way to the chancellor’s office. He says that an assassin attacked him, and he requests a search. Why?”

“Get backup,” Anakin said, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth, “I have reason to believe that Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord that we have been seeking.”

“If this is true, all of our worst fears have been realized,” Windu said, “I’ll look into it. Stay with the boy.”

Anakin wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else. He sat calmly next to Ezra, waiting for the boy to calm down on his own terms.

Eventually, Ezra glanced up, realizing that he wasn’t with Sidious. “What?” he muttered, still breathing erratically.

“Breathe,” Anakin instructed Ezra, “Kid, I need you to breathe.”

Ezra shook. “He…I _can’t…”_

“I think I figured it out,” Anakin said in a way that was hopefully comforting, “I won’t let him take you away. I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” Ezra said in a heartbreakingly broken voice, “You can never promise.”

Anakin thought quickly, trying to figure out a good way to get this poor boy to sleep through the inevitable showdown that was about to happen in the Senate building.

“Listen, would you sleep better if Ahsoka were in here too?” Anakin asked, “I promise you won't wake up back in that prison.”

Ezra shook his head. “I don’t want to keep her awake,” he muttered.

In another situation, Anakin would’ve teasingly asked if he wanted to keep Anakin awake specifically. However, Anakin knew that was not what was crossing Ezra’s mind, and jokes like that were not going to help the poor kid's mental health.

“Can you please try to fall asleep?” Anakin asked, “If you don’t wake up in this bedroom, I promise you can kill me yourself.”

Ezra looked stricken. “Don’t say that,” he said, “Why would you say that?”

Anakin shrugged. “Because I know for a fact that it’ll be fine.”

Well, he didn’t know for a _fact._ But Anakin was pretty sure. If it turned out he was wrong; he’ll probably be dead before Bridger gets an opportunity to get to him.

Ezra sighed. “Fine,” he sighed, “I’m only doing this because you won’t let it go.”

Anakin sighed. “Understood,” he said.

Was this what Obi-Wan felt like when he tried to convince Anakin to stop attacking without thinking? Because if so, he had some new respect for the man. It was funny how he only started appreciating Obi Wan’s skills as a mentor when he had to start mentoring in turn.

Ezra laid down on the cushions and stared up at the ceiling, stubbornly not closing his eyes. That of course, did not change the fact that the kid was physically exhausted, and soon his eyes started drooping. Ezra tried to keep them open, but soon enough, the kid was fast asleep.

Anakin, true to his word, did not fall asleep. He kept watching for someone who was not likely to break into Padme’s apartment complex at this hour.

About thirty minutes into the kid’s sleep, Padme snuck in quietly.

“Ahsoka went back to the temple,” she whispered, “Are you going to stay here for the night?”

Anakin nodded. “I promised him I would.”

Padme smiled. “Alright,” she said, “I’m going to bed. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Anakin replied. He gave her a peck on a cheek, and she left.

Alone once again, Anakin sunk back into the armchair next to the bed Ezra was sleeping in and watched over to Ezra's sleeping form, trying to ascertain if he were having a nightmare. Anakin couldn't tell, but he hoped for Ezra's sake that he was having good dreams.

Somehow, the kid looked so _young_ when he was sleeping. He already looked young enough, considering how malnourished he was, but still.

Anakin sat in silence for maybe another thirty minutes before receiving another com frequency.

“Skywalker, come in,” Windu was saying.

“What is it, Mace?” Anakin asked, hope surging through him. Please say that they had the chancellor in custody. _Please._

“We did it, Anakin,” Obi Wan’s voice said over the com, “Chancellor Palpatine, or Darth Sidious, is in custody. His trial will be in a week’s time.”

“That’s great,” Anakin sighed in relief, “How heavy is his guard?”

“We have five Jedi guarding his cell, along with an entire clone squadron. He tried to reach for a communicator, but we took it off his person.”

“Skywalker, what you have done for the Republic is highly commendable,” Windu continued, “Keep up the good work.”

Anakin grinned. “Thank you, Master Windu,” he said.

“Take care, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“Will do.”

Anakin let out a sigh of relief. This was _excellent_ news. They had the Sith Lord in custody, and it was very likely that he will be executed in a week’s time. The kid will be safe, and Anakin had gained Mace Windu’s trust, something he hadn’t had before now.

Still, _Chancellor Palpatine_ turned out to be the Sith Lord all along? It was almost too shocking to believe. Anakin trusted the chancellor, probably more than he should’ve. Heck, _everybody_ trusted the chancellor. How many strings had Palpatine been pulling behind the scenes of the war? Dooku was his apprentice. Did that mean that Palpatine was in charge of both sides of the war?

Did this mean that the entire war was a trap? A trap that destroyed lives and livelihoods? A war that has lasted for years just being a means to Palpatine’s end?

And for the first time in his life, Anakin felt a surge of anger toward the chancellor for the lives he had ruined. For the children he has forced to become adults before their time.

Speaking of whom, Ezra shot up with a start, flailing panickily. Anakin grabbed him, trying to stop him from moving around too much.

“You’re alright,” Anakin said, “You’re fine.”

“Not this again,” Ezra whimpered, “I’m not going to fall for the same trick. Just leave me alone.” Tears started filling his eyes.

“Ezra, you’re safe. I promise,” Anakin said, “It was just a nightmare.”

“You promised before, too,” Ezra whispered, clinging onto Anakin’s robes, “I woke up back there, and he knew my name, and he killed _everyone.”_

“He didn’t, I promise he didn’t,” Anakin told Ezra, “You’re in Padme’s home with me, remember? You’ve been sleeping for about an hour, but I promise this is real.”

Ezra was still breathing rapidly, but he seemed to become more aware of his surroundings. “It was a dream,” he muttered to himself, “You’re right.”

Anakin knew how that felt. For a dream to be so vividly real that you think it actually happened, but after a few moments, you realize that the real world was so much starker than the dream world. Once you’re properly awake, you question why you thought the dream world was real at all.

“I think this proves that this situation is real life,” Anakin said softly, “I doubt even Palpatine can recreate dreaming.”

Ezra stiffened, and his breathing quickened again. Dang it, Anakin needed to watch himself. He quickly pulled the kid into an embrace.

“You’re still here,” Anakin told him, “Tell me three things you can see.”

Ezra gasped for air but did manage to speak. “You, the window…uh, the chair.”

“Good. Two things you feel?”

“Your robes…” Ezra hesitated, “The Force.”

“Alright, one thing you hear?”

“You,” Ezra said shortly, his breathing calming down again.

“Feeling better?” Anakin asked, not letting go of the kid.

Ezra nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Anakin assured him. Yeesh, why was this kid apologizing for having trauma?

The kid let go of Anakin’s robes, so Anakin pulled out of their embrace. “Do you want to talk about it?” Anakin asked awkwardly, suddenly remembering that he was not a certified therapist.

Ezra shook his head. “Not really, no. What time is it?”

“About 0300,” Anakin supplied, “Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”

Ezra shook his head again. “I don’t think I can.”

Fair enough. If Padme were here, she’d probably insist on Ezra getting more sleep. Fortunately for Ezra, Padme wasn’t here. Instead, Anakin would just distract the kid with stories of his own shenanigans.

“Once, when I was ten,” Anakin began, “Obi-Wan wanted to show me how to be more aware of my surroundings with the force. He took me out to this nature-filled planet and made me sit down and meditate. Instead, I ended up falling asleep. When Obi-Wan woke me up, I accidentally used the force to push him into a river.”

Obi-Wan was soaked for the rest of the day and was very unhappy with Anakin. He kept muttering about rivers and strong children and chosen ones for the rest of the day. Anakin had found it hilarious.

Ezra didn’t smile, but he nodded in a way that made Anakin think he enjoyed the story. “Once, my master tried to show me how to connect to the creatures around me with the force. I was distracted because it was my birthday, and so the Loth Cat ended up attacking me instead.”

“Are you from Lothal?” Anakin asked with interest, “There’s a Jedi Temple there.”

Ezra flinched for some reason but nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who is your Master?” Anakin asked, interested, “Maybe I’ve heard of him.” Or maybe he was a clue to the mystery that was Ezra Bridger.

Ezra shook his head, however. “You wouldn’t have,” Ezra said quietly, “He was never made a Jedi Knight by the council.”

And wasn’t that interesting? Anakin found his curiosity growing by the second, but decided not to push too hard. He was trying to get this kid to trust him, not scare him away.

“Speaking of the council,” Anakin said slowly, trying to avoid sending this kid into a panic, “I connected the dots. Your Sith Lord is in custody.”

Ezra looked at Anakin blankly, his mouth forming a little ‘o.’ Then, he started crying again.

“Is he?” he asked.

“Yep,” Anakin promised, “He won’t ever hurt you again.”

Ezra nodded. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you.”_

After Ezra was done crying, Anakin led him to the kitchen of the apartment complex.

“I’m going to put a little more food in you,” Anakin informed Ezra, “Not a lot, but enough so that you won’t have to rely on the IV for the rest of your life.”

Ezra nodded. “I know how this works,” he said quietly, “I’ve done it before.”

Anakin handed Ezra a small bowl of rice. “You’ve been starved before?” Anakin asked in shock.

Ezra shrugged. “I used to live on the streets. Sometimes I couldn’t get my hands on enough food,” he muttered, “It’s no big deal.”

Anakin barely stopped himself from pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Living on the streets and not getting enough to eat was apparently _no big deal_ for this kid. Force, help him.

“Eat that,” Anakin commanded Ezra, who was simply staring at the bowl of rice, “And, kid, living on the streets seems like a pretty big deal to me.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Ezra said simply, taking a small bite of the rice.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Anakin insisted.

Ezra made a face at that but quickly smoothed out his features again. Anakin puzzled over this reaction, but decided, once again, not to pry.

As soon as Ezra was done eating the bowl of rice, which took way to long considering the bowl was tiny, Anakin pulled out a holochess set.

“It doesn’t seem like any of us are going to get sleep tonight,” Anakin explained, “So we might as well do something to occupy our time.”

Ezra nodded and made his move.

They played holochess for the next couple of hours. Ezra wasn’t too bad at playing, and he mentioned that he knew someone who taught him strategy.

“He always said I should think like a soldier instead of like a Jedi,” Ezra explained, “He and Kanan would argue a lot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking like both,” Anakin remarked. He thought back to all of the battles that would’ve been lost without the help of the clones _and_ the force. “Heck, Rex never questions my outlandish plans anymore, and most of them rely on my skill in the force _and_ the skills of the clones.”

Ezra’s face flickered at the mention of Rex, and Anakin wondered if he had heard of the man or even met him. Ezra _had_ claimed to have met Ahsoka before.

“They realized that, eventually,” Ezra said. He made his next move. “There was some bad blood between them.”

Anakin nodded. He knew as well as anyone how much a bad history with someone could affect how well he worked with them.

Their fourth game was interrupted by Padme, who had entered the kitchen. She was wearing her purple nightdress, and her hair was as curly as ever. She clearly had just woken up.

“Hey, Anakin,” Padme said, “Hello, Ezra.”

Anakin smiled at Padme. “Hi, Padme,” he said, “How was your sleep?”

“Short,” Padme said, smiling as she took a sip of her coffee, “Did you get any sleep?”

Anakin scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was a bit occupied.”

“What about you, Ezra?” Padme asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

The boy raised his very thin arms in surrender. “I got an hour of sleep,” he said meekly, “Master Skywalker said it was okay.”

Wow, way to throw him under the podracer. Anakin gave Ezra a mutinous glare before facing his wife.

“ _Anakin,”_ Padme hissed, “One hour? Really?”

“What was I supposed to do? He didn’t want to sleep! At least I got some food in his system,” Anakin said defensively, gesturing to the small bowl on the table.

Padme rolled her eyes. “You could’ve told him that sleep was healthy for him and necessary for his survival.”

“He had a nightmare,” Anakin pointed out, “I wasn’t going to make him sleep through one of those.”

Padme sighed and handed Anakin caf. “Sorry, Ezra, but I don’t think your stomach can handle caf,” she told Ezra apologetically.

Ezra shrugged. “That’s alright,” he said, “I never liked caf that much anyway.”

Anakin shook his head disbelievingly as he took a large sip of his caf. Proof that this kid was still, well, a kid.

“Um, Padme?” Anakin said, “There’s going to be some political madness today. So, brace yourself.”

“What did you do?” Padme asked dangerously.

Anakin winced. “I didn’t _do_ anything per se.” He scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t want to say anything explicit about Palpatine, lest Ezra gets a panic attack. “But…you are likely going to have an election.”

Padme sighed. “I’d better get ready then,” she said, “I’m surprised that I haven’t been called over yet.”

“The Council is probably waiting to make a statement,” Anakin explained, “Who knows, maybe this will end the war.”

That was a bit of a stretch to hope, but it wasn’t a stretch to assume Palpatine had orchestrated the war. If that was the case, then it was likely that the Separatists would see sense. Unfortunately, the Separatists didn’t know that Dooku was a Sith, so they might be difficult to sway.

Padme dashed out of the kitchen, clearly spurred on by this ambiguous news. Ezra had a thoughtful expression on his face as if he were trying to work out a difficult riddle inside his head.

“What’re you thinking about?” Anakin asked Ezra.

Ezra full-bodied flinched, but replied, “I was just trying to figure something out.”

That was the vaguest answer Anakin ever had the pleasure of hearing. Then again, Ezra was one for giving vague answers.

“Listen,” Anakin said, suddenly remembering what Windu said. “I need to go to the Jedi Temple. Today is probably going to be filled with politics instead of fighting for me, but I still need to check in there. I’m assuming you want to come with?”

Ezra nodded and shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, you must be getting sick of me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Anakin said, “If the council demands to see me alone, I’ll leave you with Ahsoka, and you can stand outside of the door.”

“Okay,” Ezra agreed.

Ezra was still wearing the outer layer of his robes, so Anakin went into ‘the other guest bedroom’ where he stored some of his clothes for situations like these.

As Anakin shoved his new set of outer robes on, Ezra looked around the room and back at the closet storing Anakin’s robes.

“Wow, you must be close to Senator Amidala if you leave things in the guest bedroom,” he remarked. He wasn’t smiling, but his voice was certainly cheeky.

Anakin froze, and then reminded himself that the entire Senate knew that he and Padme were close, in the friendship sense at any rate.

“We’re just friends,” Anakin said, hoping he sounded casual.

“If you say so,” Ezra said.

“Don’t tell anyone about your assumptions,” Anakin said, “Which are not true, by the way. It’s not appropriate for Jedi to have attachments.”

Ezra looked taken aback. “Really?” he asked, “That’s somewhat harsh.”

Anakin wondered who in the galaxy had trained this kid and nodded. “I agree, but that’s why you can’t tell anyone.”

Ezra muttered something under his breath that Anakin didn’t catch. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ezra said, “nothing.”

Anakin highly doubted it was ‘nothing,’ but let it go.

When they reached the Jedi Temple, Ezra gaped at it. Now, he understood what Kanan always went on about when he mentioned the past influence of the Jedi. This was nothing like the temple hidden in a rock on Lothal. This place was massive and _impressive._

“Pretty neat, isn’t it?” Skywalker asked.

“Yeah,” Ezra said, still looking up at the tall spires of the temple, “It’s _huge.”_

“Yeah, well, we are in Coruscant,” Skywalker remarked as they walked up the stairs to the temple entrance, “Everything they do here is big.”

Ezra didn’t doubt that. At least, he didn’t doubt that when it concerned this Senate district. He was no longer surprised that Governor Pryce was so willing to betray Lothal. A woman like her would _love_ it in Coruscant. The buildings were huge and might as well have housed their own cities in it.

The Senate Building wasn’t unlike a larger Imperial Dome in Lothal, but Ezra chose not to think about that.

Skywalker stopped at the entrance of the Temple, and Ezra followed suit.

“Listen, Ezra,” Skywalker said, “I’m not sure if you know this already, but with the Jedi, there’s a lot of emphasis on bowing. It was something I had to get used to when I first came here.”

That was certainly not something Ezra already knew. Well, he bowed before sparring with Ahsoka, but that was it.

“Okay…? How do I…?” he trailed off nervously.

“You bow to show respect, gratitude, apologies, before and after a sparring session, and when you leave a room,” Skywalker listed, “Showing respect basically means when you enter a room with someone else in it, or when you greet someone. Got it?”

Ezra nodded, wondering why Kanan had decided to be so lax on Ezra’s Jedi etiquette course. He probably didn’t think it mattered since all of the Jedi were dead. Well, now, Ezra was stuck having to learn it all from scratch.

“How do I bow, though?”

Skywalker demonstrated. Ezra did it in turn, and Skywalker corrected the straightness of his back. Ezra tried again.

“Alright,” Skywalker nodded, “Good job.”

Well, that hadn’t been so bad. And, since Ezra may or may not have drastically changed the timeline, he might not be standing next to the future Darth Vader. Especially now that Palpatine was behind bars.

 _Don’t think about him,_ Ezra told himself fiercely. If he thought about him, he’d worry about him, and if he worried about him, he’d get paranoid and scared and panicked.

Too late. Ezra was already letting his eyes dart all over the place, searching for a man he knew wasn’t there.

“You’re safe, Ezra,” Skywalker reassured him, and Ezra found himself no longer surprised that Ahsoka had been so heartbroken at the discovery that Skywalker was Vader.

Ezra nodded. “I know that,” he said. He tried to sound confident, but his voice was still somewhat hoarse, so the effect was lessened.

Skywalker didn’t laugh at him. “Good,” he said, “Are you ready to go inside?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. He was about to walk through the forgotten halls of the Jedi Temple. His heart thumped, and this time it wasn’t from fear.

Skywalker walked inside, taking Ezra with him.

It was amazing. Well, it wasn’t quite as amazing as Ezra imagined, but when Kanan told Ezra the occasional story, he had let his imagination run wild.

Still, there were Jedi _everywhere._ Ezra looked about him as masters and their padawans walked through the hallways. They were all different species too, making all the more fascinating.

Skywalker seemed unperturbed by how many Jedi there were, and Ezra supposed that he did see it every day. Still, no wonder the purge was such a blow to everyone.

Skywalker stopped at a door and knocked. It opened a few moments later to reveal young Ahsoka Tano.

“Hey, Anakin,” Ahsoka said, “You interrupted my mediation. Is something wrong?”

Skywalker shrugged. “Not exactly.”

Just at that moment, Skywalker’s com beeped. “Yes?” Skywalker asked, pressing the button on his wrist.

“Anakin, the council wishes to speak with you in half an hour.” _Was that Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice?_ He sounded younger. Obviously.

“No problem,” Skywalker said. He faced Ahsoka. “Listen, if you don’t mind, I need to speak with the council. Ezra doesn’t want to be left alone, and I don’t blame him. So, do you mind if you stand outside the entrance of the council room with Ezra? It’s actually likely that they will want to speak with him as well.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “I don’t mind. I suppose we’re leaving now?”

“Yeah,” Skywalker said.

Ezra and Ahsoka followed Anakin to the elevators. Once inside, Ahsoka turned to Ezra.

“Listen, sorry about before,” she said, “I can get…insensitive at times.”

Ezra shrugged. “It’s alright,” he said, “You didn’t trigger anything too severe.”

“I’m sorry for asking this, but do you have war shock?” Ahsoka asked, “Because, if so, it would be a good idea for you to figure out all of your triggers so that others can avoid them for you.”

Ezra frowned in puzzlement. War shock? No, he didn’t have war shock. War shock was for people who fought in battles and nearly died or lost a loved one. Not for teenagers who ended up imprisoned.

Well, Ezra had had his fair share of battles and near-deaths, but that wasn’t the point. Kanan had war shock because the clones turned on him. Zeb had war shock because his people were slaughtered. Sabine had war shock because she created a weapon that could neutralize her people. Chopper had bad memories around y-wings because he had crashed one. Hera couldn’t stop shuddering around fuel pods for obvious reasons.

“I don’t have war shock,” Ezra assured Ahsoka.

“Don’t listen to him,” Skywalker said, “Don’t mention anything to do with last night.”

“What happened last night?” Ahsoka asked.

“Man, you must’ve only just woken up,” Skywalker groaned.

“Well, it is only 0600,” Ahsoka said defensively, “What happened last night?”

“We caught the Sith Lord,” Skywalker said shortly, “That’s all that needs to be said right now.”

Ezra, however, had some objections. He crossed his arms. “I don’t have war shock,” Ezra protested, “I know people who have had it way worse than me, and—”

Ezra flinched when Skywalker put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, but he didn’t pull away. “Don’t invalidate your own experiences,” Skywalker told Ezra seriously, “You’ve been showing the symptoms for as long as I’ve met you.”

Ezra still had his doubts, but arguing would probably be useless.

“Anakin,” Ahsoka said dryly, “The elevator door is open.”

Skywalker turned around quickly and walked out of the elevator. Ahsoka and Ezra followed. “Sorry about that, Snips,” Skywalker said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ahsoka said, rolling her eyes.

On a completely unrelated note, Ezra missed Kanan.

They arrived at the entrance of what Ezra could only assume was the council room. Skywalker turned to face Ezra and Ahsoka.

“Alright, you two, stay here,” Skywalker said, “I’ll be back with you in a moment.”

Ezra and Ahsoka waited there awkwardly. True to his word, Anakin was back pretty quickly.

“Alright, Ezra,” Skywalker said, “The council wants to speak to you.”

Ezra nodded, recalling what Skywalker told him about bowing. He followed Skywalker into the council chamber, which was a round room with chairs around the circumference. Ezra recognized Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master Yoda, and Master Depa Billaba. The others he had seen before, maybe on the Holocron, but no names came to mind.

Still, Ezra bowed with Skywalker, hoping he was doing it correctly. None of the masters commented on it, so Ezra hoped that it was good enough.

“Masters, this is Ezra Bridger,” Anakin said, “He was imprisoned by Darth Sidious.”

“Young Bridger,” one bald but menacing Master said. “How did you find yourself being imprisoned by the Sith Lord?”

Ezra hesitated before replying. He didn’t want to give too much about his original time period away. He still wasn’t sure how the Jedi would react.

“I knew his true identity,” Ezra said, trying not to think about the torture, “and I attacked him.”

“You attacked a Dark Lord of the Sith?” Kenobi asked. Ezra grimaced but did not fail to observe that Kenobi was sitting very causally compared to everyone else.

“I…um, didn’t mean to,” Ezra said carefully, “Something happened, and I found myself in his office, and I panicked.”

“Hiding something, you are, young Bridger,” Master Yoda said, “fear, I sense in you.” Master Yoda narrowed his eyes. “Loss.”

Ezra decided that he might as well tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may. It was better than having to dance around Master Yoda, who seemed to be well on his way to guessing the truth.

“I’m from the future,” Ezra admitted, glancing guiltily at Master Skywalker, who was gaping at Ezra. “I promise I’m not lying, and I’m not crazy either.”

“Explain,” the master from before said.

“Where I come from, Darth Sidious managed to wipe out all of the Jedi,” Ezra continued, “Well, almost all of them. He became Emperor over the entire galaxy. He orchestrated the entire Clone War, and ended it after—”

Ezra shuddered. His breathing quickened.

“After what?” Kenobi asked, seeming to humor Ezra.

“After—” After order 66 was executed. After the clones turned on the Jedi. After Anakin became evil.

Ezra didn’t want to talk about Anakin, because he seemed like a decent guy at the moment. And while Ezra _wanted_ to tell everyone about the chips inside the clones…

He couldn’t. Palpatine had focused more torture time on the slaughter of the Jedi, and even saying the word ‘clone’ was grounds for Ezra to have a breakdown.

“Masters,” Skywalker interceded, causing Ezra to flinch, “I have reason to believe that Sidious tortured Ezra to prevent him from spreading incriminating information. It was luck that I was able to put the pieces together regarding the Sith’s identity. There is a good chance that while Ezra wants to tell you what happened; Sidious has made sure that he can’t.”

“Sense deceit from you, I do not, young Bridger,” Yoda said, “Confirm Master Skywalker’s statement, can you?”

Ezra nodded, trying to take deep breaths to make up for his speeding heart rate.

“Still, it would be good to have proof of what Bridger is saying is true,” the bald Master mused.

Kenobi stroked his beard. “We’d have to ask him about something that will happen no matter what. Or about something that only a few of us know about.”

“Well,” Skywalker said, “He said he met Ahsoka before, and Ahsoka doesn’t recognize him.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” the bald master pointed out.

“No, but we could ask him something about Ahsoka. She says she never met him, so anything he knows would be proof.”

“You forget, Anakin, that you and Ahsoka work on the field,” Kenobi pointed out, “Anything the boy knows could have been gathered through intelligence.”

“And she didn’t tell me anything about her Padawan life apart from the fact that she apprenticed under you,” Ezra told Skywalker. He thought for a moment. “I know that Maul has a grudge against Kenobi. Is that public information?”

Kenobi winced. “Only sort of,” he said, “It’s convincing, but it’s not convincing enough.”

Ezra thought harder. “What’s the date?” he asked.

Anakin supplied it to him. Okay, so it was apparently about four months before Empire Day, or perhaps not Empire Day. Ezra’s next birthday was in four months. He was going to be nineteen in five months before he time jumped, so it was possible that he had been imprisoned for a month. It was difficult to determine if Ezra was transported to the same date, however.

“Well…” Ezra thought harder, “I know there will be a bad storm in Lothal near the capital in around a month. And…I don’t know if this has anything to do with anything, but there’s this bird that used to follow Ahsoka around. It was white with green wings, and Ahsoka called her an old friend.”

Well, the comment about the bird certainly got a reaction out of Anakin and Kenobi. “I wasn’t aware…” Kenobi trailed off. “I believe he isn’t wrong.”

“We can start tracking Lothal’s weather patterns and see what happens,” Depa Billaba suggested.

“Very well,” the bald Jedi said, “Bridger, I hear you were being trained as a Jedi?”

Ezra nodded nervously. “Yes sir. One of the survivors took me in,” he explained.

“Who was it? Perhaps they’d be willing to continue your training.” Depa Bellaba asked curiously. Ezra wished it was anyone but her.

“Caleb Dume,” Ezra said, his voice choked with emotion. Depa reeled. “I doubt he is capable of training me, considering he is still a youngling.”

“I’d be willing to continue the boy’s training,” Kenobi volunteered, which was generous of him, considering they had essentially just met.

“Too fearful, you are,” Master Yoda warned Ezra, “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

Ezra winced, recalling the aftermath of Malachor. “I will do whatever you believe is best,” Ezra said, feeling that now would be a good time to bow. He hoped he sounded more confident than he actually did.

“You took Anakin at an older age, and he’s turned out fine,” Kenobi protested, “This boy has already begun his training. I don’t see the harm in continuing it. Besides, we’ve all felt fear, especially during these times.”

The bald Jedi-and _man,_ did Ezra wish he knew his name- nodded almost approvingly. “Very well,” he said, “Kenobi, you will take over young Bridger’s training.” He turned to Ezra. “Bridger, if the war continues, you will be sent to the field. Can you handle that?”

Ezra nodded. He was fine. Despite what Skywalker said, he did not have war shock. Ezra has fought in many battles before. What was one more? As soon as he was physically fit enough, Ezra would be fine to go to the battlefield.

Still a small part of Ezra told him that Hera would not approve.

Hera was not _here._

“Decided then, it is,” Master Yoda said, “Dismissed, you are.”

Ezra and Skywalker bowed and exited the room. That could’ve gone far worse.

“How’d it go?” Ahsoka asked. She was leaning against the wall casually, probably tired of waiting.

“Pretty well,” Skywalker said, “Obi-Wan is going to continue Ezra’s training.”

Ashoka gaped. “Really? But he told me that he was likely never going to have a padawan again, somewhat cynically, I might add.”

Ezra winced. He didn’t want to cause any trouble.

“Well, who knows what goes on in his head,” Skywalker shrugged, “Besides, he volunteered. He probably wants a distraction.”

“From what?” Ezra asked.

Ahsoka and Skywalker winced in unison. “From the political hellhole the council has set,” Skywalker said, “Let me tell you, I am not looking forward to that.”

“Good thing you’re not a politician,” Ahsoka pointed out.

“I might as well be,” Skywalker muttered mutinously, “Besides, the Jedi are going to need to make a statement regarding the Chancellor’s arrest.”

Ezra winced but kept his breathing under control. No one was here. No one was going to hurt him. Everything was fine.

Ahsoka’s face became alarmed. “The Chancellor’s been arrested? Why?”

Skywalker looked uncomfortable, shifting side to side as he scratched the back of his neck. “Long story,” Skywalker said elusively, “You’ll find out later, or I’ll tell you when we’re alone.”

Ahsoka did not seem satisfied with this answer, but Ezra was grateful. He didn’t want to have to deal with more hyperventilating at the moment.

“So…” Ezra said slowly, “What happens now?”

“We should probably wait until Kenobi is ready for you,” Skywalker mused, “We _could_ see if we can get you a lightsaber from the armory.”

Ezra groaned. “Do I have to go on another spiritual trip for another crystal? Because I’ve already done that twice.”

Well, the second time was less spiritual and more coincidental. As in, he was on a planet and found a crystal. But the first time was not a pleasant experience, and Ezra was still a little resentful toward the Jedi Temple on Lothal for making him think everyone he cared about was dead.

Then again, he got to speak with Master Yoda, so it wasn’t all bad.

Still, it was rough.

“Uh…probably,” Ahsoka said, “When I got my second lightsaber, I had to go back to Ilum for my second crystal.”

“Ilum?” Ezra asked, “Where’s that?”

Ahsoka looked unimpressed as she spoke, “It’s an ice planet where many of the Jedi find their crystal. Where did you get your crystal?”

Ezra shrugged. “I got my first one in the Jedi temple on Lothal.”

“Really?” Ahsoka asked.

“Well, I for one, can vouch that there are spare lightsabers Ezra can use in the meantime,” Skywalker said.

Ahsoka grinned. “Of course, Master. A side effect of constantly losing your lightsabers, I assume.”

Skywalker massaged his forehead like he had a headache. “Sometimes I wonder why I even keep you around.”

“You like me,” Ahsoka remarked, “It’s your loss.”

Ezra felt a tiny smile form on his face upon hearing the banter. He suddenly understood why Ahsoka had refused to leave on Malachor. Why she nearly died, trying to get Skywalker back.

It hadn’t worked, but as Ezra looked up at the man that had become Darth Vader, he couldn’t picture it at all.

The only picture that came to mind was of Kanan.

“Alright, let’s just go already,” Skywalker said, rolling his eyes. Ezra followed closely, getting slightly more used to the grand scale of the temple.

“And we’ll just go in here,” Skywalker said as he eventually approached a doorway.

They stepped into a white room with mats on the floor. Lightsabers lined the walls, and Ezra couldn’t help but stare. There were just so many. Ezra himself had only ever seen three, no, five, no, six Jedi lightsabers in his life, and here he was, looking at at least three times as many lined up on the walls in one room of a massive temple.

“Alright, Ezra,” Ahsoka said, “What type of lightsaber did you use?”

Ezra kind of gestured. “One blade,” he said.

Ahsoka nodded and grabbed a lightsaber similar to Kanan’s off of the wall. “You won’t be as connected to this one compared to how you would feel with your own lightsabers,” Ahsoka said, “But I’m sure you can make it work.”

Ezra nodded and caught the lightsaber Ahsoka tossed to him.

“Don’t let Obi-Wan catch you doing that,” Skywalker warned casually.

“Obi-Wan isn’t here,” Ahsoka said calmly.

She turned on her own blades, and Ezra started. They were _green._ Ezra supposed it made sense. Ezra’s original lightsaber was blue, but his next crystal was green. It was a bit presumptuous to assume all Jedi just kept one color. Still, it was strange to see Ahsoka lacking her familiar white blades.

Ezra himself turned on the lightsaber in his hands and found it to be blue. He adjusted the size to match his height and went into his starting form, practicing some blocks.

“So, you know the basic forms,” Skywalker remarked, raising his eyebrows, “Good.”

Ezra was tempted to roll his eyes at that but didn’t. Kanan might’ve survived the slaughter of the Jedi at a young age, but that didn’t mean that Kanan didn’t know his forms.

“I’m probably going to be rusty,” Ezra admitted.

“We aren’t going to push you too hard,” Skywalker assured Ezra, “Not with those injuries at any rate. Right, Snips?”

Ahsoka looked affronted. “Who do you think I am?”

“My overeager padawan,” Skywalker shrugged, grinning slyly.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes and turned on her own lightsabers. She and Ezra stared at each other, waiting for a moment to strike.

Ahsoka’s fighting style was different in this time period, but not so different that Ezra couldn’t see similarities. He was also used to fighting Ahsoka when she was taller, so this duel, in comparison, was somewhat easy.

Of course, he didn’t win. He got close, but he didn’t. He could blame it on the injuries or the months of imprisonment, but the fact of the matter was that Ahsoka was always better with a saber than he was. That probably wouldn’t change, no matter what time period he was in.

“Impressive,” Skywalker commented, “You could really hold your own.”

Ezra, who was breathing heavily, nodded. “Comes with experience.”

“What sort of experience do you have?” Ahsoka asked, curiosity in her tone. She put her lightsabers back on her belt. “Your fighting style seems tailored to genuine experience, as opposed to stiff duels.”

Ezra sat down and leaned against the wall. It had been a while since he had to fight like that, and his various injuries were acting up. Not to mention he hadn’t eaten much.

They probably should’ve thought of that. Then again, Ezra was good at working through starvation. It was easy to forget.

“Yeah, I’ve been in a lot of lightsaber battles,” Ezra mused, thinking back to all of the times he faced inquisitors and Maul and Vader, “I lost most of them.”

“Still, that was good work,” Skywalker said, “I think we should be done for the day.”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “I’ll probably collapse if I have to exert myself again.”

Skywalker cursed. “I forgot about that,” he muttered, “How could I forget about that?”

Everyone’s heads swiveled toward a new voice, and Ezra gaped. He supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised, but still.

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was striding into the room.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you have an unfortunate habit of forgetting things when they count most, Anakin. Don’t take it personally."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, for those of you counting, Ezra got his first hug this chapter. Yay! 
> 
> Palpatine is properly thwarted, or is he???


	4. Obi-Wan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said before that um… he was in custody?” Bridger asked, “Um… how well guarded is he?”
> 
> “We have five Jedi guarding his cell, and a clone squadron with them—” Bridger’s face became so horrified that Obi-Wan stopped. “What is it?”
> 
> Bridger dropped his fork and gripped the table tightly. “You have clones guarding his cell?”

Ezra Bridger was a strange child, to say the least.

It was not his fault, of course. There was no shadow of a doubt that the boy had been deeply traumatized by his time in captivity, and Obi-Wan didn’t blame him in the slightest. Every inch of the poor boy’s skin seemed to be covered in bacta patches.

Then, of course, there was the subject of the boy's time traveling. Such a thing is unheard of. There were ancient rumors of a world between worlds, but that was a myth. The stuff of legends.

The boy didn’t seem to understand it either, which had made Obi-Wan assume he was crazy. It was a logical conclusion. The boy wasn’t lying, and for all he knew, the boy’s knowledge of the Chancellor’s sithhood could’ve come from somewhere else.

Then again, Palpatine had managed to convince the entire Jedi order of his innocence, so for a boy to find out was pretty unlikely.

The boy had gained a point in his favor when he mentioned that Maul hated Kenobi, something he would rather not think about right now. Bridger clearly was not aware of the previous night’s events, or he would’ve probably been more tactful.

But…Obi-Wan would not deny that the boy’s ignorance of last night’s unfortunate circumstances further proved that there was more to meet the eye. It’s possible that the boy had met Maul in passing. Anyone with eyes could see the former Sith’s hatred for Obi-Wan.

Of course, if that were the case, it would mean Bridger had survived two encounters with very powerful and dark force users, which seemed unlikely. Then again, Bridger didn’t survive unscathed with Palpatine, that much was for certain.

Regardless, those two facts alone were not enough to convince Obi-Wan. Yet…the boy had said one thing that made Obi-Wan willing to give the time travel theory a chance.

The bird. The boy described it as a bird with green wings and a white body that followed Ahsoka around. Ahsoka herself apparently called the bird an old friend. And the color scheme of the bird reminded Obi-Wan of the sister in Mortis.

Of course, she had died, but that did not change the fact that she had a bond with Ahsoka. It wasn’t impossible…

It still seemed outlandish.

“Wish there were a better way to discover the truth, I do,” Yoda mused after the boy left.

There was a silence as Obi-Wan stroked his beard, thinking hard. They could always track the weather channels, but it could be a coincidence. Anything the boy said could be a coincidence or a message from the force.

“What if we checked Bridger’s DNA?” Master Unduli said, “Would not that be the quickest way to solve the conundrum?”

In hindsight, that was the obvious solution. Obi-Wan rose. “I shall speak with Bridger. He is my new Padawan after all.”

His new Padawan also happened to be wearing is old Padawan’s robes. Obi-Wan would have found this highly amusing if not for the fact that the robes hung so loosely on the boy’s thin frame signs of starvation were very obvious.

Thus, Obi-Wan set out searching for the boy. It wasn’t too difficult. He knew that whenever Ahsoka and Anakin were bored, they found their way into one of the training rooms, so that was the first place he checked.

Sure enough, when Obi-Wan stepped foot into the training room, he found Anakin moaning about something he had forgotten. Ezra Bridger was sitting on the ground, looking completely exhausted, and Ahsoka was watching with mild confusion.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you have an unfortunate habit of forgetting things when they count most, Anakin. Don’t take it personally,” Obi-Wan said as he strode into the room.

Obi-Wan took great pleasure to see everyone’s look of shock and surprise at his entrance. Anakin looked as if he was caught stealing someone’s piece of cake out of the fridge (something that had actually happened in the past). Ahsoka recovered her shock and smirked at Anakin, and Bridger simply stared.

“You hear that, Skyguy? You can’t remember things when it matters,” Ahsoka paraphrased.

Anakin gaped at Obi-Wan. “Me? I’ll have you know that I can remember many things,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure you remember to obey orders.”

Bridger let out a snort at this, and Obi-Wan felt more pleasure at that. The boy was so morose; it was good to know that he was capable of some positive emotions.

“I only disobey orders when they’re wrong,” Anakin corrected, “Which, coincidentally, happens to be most of the time.”

“And you wonder why Ahsoka is rebellious,” Obi-Wan sighed, “Where did I go wrong?”

“Sorry, Master,” Ahsoka said, crossing her arms. She was wearing a very victorious look on her face. “You’re stuck with two of us.”

Obi-Wan looked at Bridger, who had satisfied himself with watching the conversation. “I may have landed myself with three of you.”

“Ezra?” Ahsoka asked, glancing at Bridger. “You don’t seem like the ‘disobey orders because they’re wrong’ sort of guy.”

Bridger shook his head. “You’d be surprised,” he said. His face darkened. “Unfortunately, most of the time the orders were actually right, and I was just being an idiot.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Well, at least you learn,” he said, “Anakin constantly gets away with it.”

“First of all, I’m right here. Second of all, it’s because I’m just that good,” Anakin said.

“What about me?” Ahsoka demanded, “I’ve been there too!”

Anakin shook his head. “I was in the game long before you were, my young padawan,” he said with an air of superiority.

Obi-Wan turned away from the two and directed his attention toward Bridger. “We found a way to properly prove your claim at time travel,” Obi-Wan said, “While I am inclined to believe you, it would be better if we had tangible proof.”

“How?” Bridger asked, straightening up from the wall he was leaning against.

“DNA sample,” Obi-Wan said simply, “We can take a sample of your DNA and see if it matches with whoever you claim to be your parents. If it matches and your parents are either too young or childless, then we will know for certain that you are telling the truth.”

Bridger nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. The boy slowly heaved himself to his feet. “Are we doing that now?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Preferably,” he said.

Bridger nodded again and obediently followed Obi-Wan to the medical bay. Despite the boy saying that he had a rebellious side, he was more compliant than Obi-Wan was used to. Then again, Obi-Wan was used to Anakin, who was an eager little boy when he began training and did not change as he got older. This was a boy who was deeply traumatized and very likely has lost everyone he knew in one go.

It put the…events of last night into perspective.

They entered the bay, and Bridger sat down on the medical table. Bridger did seem somewhat winded from the walk, which was strange, considering that it hadn’t been that long. Then again, the boy was very thin and had been in captivity. That meant…

Anakin, you fool. Obi-Wan did his very best not to look too irritated when he came to the realization that Anakin had allowed a malnourished teenager to participate in a lightsaber duel. It was fortunate they got off with exhaustion and not a severed limb due to slow reflexes.

“Master Kenobi?” Bridger asked nervously.

Obi-Wan realized that he had been staring at Bridger for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said briskly, “Bridger, when was the last time you ate?”

Bridger shrugged. “I had a small bowl of rice earlier this morning,” he said, “And I had the IV in for the entire night.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “How much earlier this morning?”

Bridger furrowed his eyebrows. “Uh…maybe a few hours before 0530? What time is it now?”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. This boy and Anakin’s lack responsibility were going to be the death of him. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Bridger had the decency to look uncomfortable at this query. “One hour,” he muttered.

“Why, might I ask, did you only get one hour of sleep last night?” Obi-Wan asked, having a feeling Anakin was at the root of it.

“I woke up,” Bridger said simply, “Master Skywalker said I didn’t have to get any more sleep.”

“Well, at least I know that Padme probably already lectured Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, “Honestly, how are you still standing?”

“Practice,” the young boy said shortly.

And wasn’t that a concerning tidbit of information? Why on earth would a boy Bridger’s age have practice in exerting himself after one hour of sleep and malnourishment?

“Well, you shouldn’t have to,” Obi-Wan said sternly, “Next time, try to fall back asleep.”

Bridger winced, and Obi-Wan had a feeling he knew what woke young Bridger up. He too had been plagued by images of yesterday’s unfortunate circumstances.

Questions of Maul rose to the surface of Obi Wan’s mind, begging to be answered by the boy sitting in front of him. Still, Obi-Wan pushed them away and turned to the med-droid.

“We’re going to need a blood sample,” he said.

“Of course, sir,” the droid said in a mechanical voice.

Bridger squeezed his eyes shut. Obi-Wan sat down next to him.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Obi-Wan asked. He was used to this sort of thing with Anakin. Of course, it had been years since Anakin allowed such a thing.

Bridger’s face became tinted pink, but he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand anyway. When the droid inserted the needle, Bridger’s breathing shortened. Obi-Wan massaged Bridger’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“It’s done,” Obi-Wan informed the teen, who opened his eyes slowly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand.

“There’s no need for that,” Obi-Wan said, “Now, who are your parents?”

That also warranted a wince from Bridger for whatever reason. Likely some trauma connected to them. Obi-Wan prayed it wasn’t child abuse; the poor boy had suffered enough as it is.

“Mira and Ephraim Bridger,” Bridger said quietly, “I’m not sure if they’re married yet, but I’ll be born in about four months.”

Obi-Wan nodded and looked over at the droid, who was holding a small vial of Bridger’s blood. “Send that in for processing,” he said.

They waited about five minutes before the droid came back.

“The results are positive. Ephraim Bridger, age twenty-five, is the father of Ezra Bridger.”

There was no doubt that Ezra could not possibly exist without time-travel being involved.

“Well, congratulations Ezra Bridger,” Obi-Wan said, “You are officially a time traveler.”

Bridger raised his thin arms up sloppily. “Yippee,” he said sarcastically, “I feel so blessed.”

“Do you have any idea how it happened?” Obi-Wan asked conversationally, but still curious. After all, if there was a way to turn back time, he could stop Maul…

Obi Wan’s thoughts were interrupted by the fear he could feel rolling off of Bridger through the force. Obi-Wan noticed that the boy had stiffened, and his breathing had gotten tighter.

“Ezra,” Obi-Wan said, deciding that using his first name would be better in this situation, “You’re safe.”

Bridger nodded and screwed his eyes shut. “I know,” he said between gasps, “I know. Just…give me a minute.”

Obi Wan gently squeezed Ezra’s hand and waited patiently. Eventually, the boy’s breathing slowed, and he opened his eyes.

That’s when the boy actually had the gall to grin sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” he said, “It was nothing. As for the time travel, I have no idea.”

There was something tight in his tone, something missing from that last statement, but Obi Wan found himself too preoccupied for the boy’s mental wellbeing to care.

“It’s alright not to be alright,” Obi Wan said slowly, “You don’t have to pretend.”

The boy grimaced. “Does it matter?” he asked. Obi Wan had a feeling that Bridger already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Obi Wan emphasized, “Better to express your emotions before they swallow you whole.”

Obi Wan supposed he was being a bit of a hypocrite on that front. He refused to even think about… Maul and Mandalore, and now he was asking a teenage boy to express himself.

Sometimes, there was an inkling of truth to the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ philosophy. Just because Obi Wan was repressing his emotions didn’t mean that the boy should do the same.

“Why do you even care?” Bridger challenged.

His face was going sour. Good. Obi Wan had trained, practically raised, Anakin, and the first step with Anakin had always been anger. Despite what Master Yoda said, anger wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Better to get it out now than to let it fester.

“Because the council has made you my responsibility, and contrary to what you might believe, I do care about what happens to you,” Obi Wan said, “And I doubt Anakin would be too happy with me if something were to happen to you.”

“You’re not my master,” Bridger said impudently. Ah. They were diving into the heart of the problem.

Obi Wan had the pleasure of speaking to young Caleb many times. Of course, the boy always had strange questions, but they changed Obi Wan’s view of things that he had originally taken for granted. He likely grew up to be a fine Jedi.

“Unfortunately, as you said yourself, young Caleb is in no state to train anyone, considering he himself has not completed his training,” Obi Wan said briskly.

“That’s not what I meant.” The boy crossed his arms and looked away, like he wanted to be done with this conversation. Obi Wan, however, wasn’t.

“Then what did you mean?”

Bridger scowled. “Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” Obi Wan pushed.

Bridger rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let it be, Hera?” Bridger froze, looking mortified.

Hera. That was a new name. Likely someone close to Bridger, if her name was Bridger’s reflex after being probed about what was wrong. Perhaps his surrogate mother?

Obi Wan sighed, trying not to sound long suffering. “Bridger, I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

Bridger jumped to his feet. “What’s bothering me?! I’ll tell you what’s bothering me!” Bridger held up a hand and started counting off with his fingers. “My parents? Dead. My master? Dead. My entire crew? They didn’t die, but they sure don’t remember me! Everyone I know is gone.” Bridger let out a dry laugh. “Force, even Ahsoka is different.”

Bridger took a deep breath and continued. “I was prepared to lose. I was prepared to die. But I thought I would at least see my parents again. At least see Kanan again. And I suppose I technically could, but they’re not my parents. My master is a teenager!

“Instead of dying, which I was prepared to do, I get transported to the capital and imprisoned. I can’t even make things right because Sidious went out of his way to render me incapable of telling you vital information.”

The boy sighed and sat back down. “Look, I’m sorry, but I just want to go home.”

Obi Wan knew what the boy meant. Home wasn’t achievable for Bridger. As he had stated, even the things in this time that he knew weren’t the things that he knew.

“Ezra,” Obi Wan said slowly, deciding to start on the easier things to unpack, “First of all, you have made a difference. We have Pal—Sidious in custody, which is more than your time period could say, I’m assuming.”

Ezra winced but nodded. “Secondly, I’m afraid I cannot console you concerning your friends and family. The only advice I can give you is to try to make new bonds.”

Bridger opened his mouth furiously, but Obi Wan forged ahead. “I’m not telling you to forget about your friends,” he clarified, “But, unfortunately, they are not here anymore, and I’m sure they would want you to make new ones.”

Bridger frowned and didn’t say anything. Obi Wan took this as progress, as silence was typically a sign of thought, and thought was typically a sign of reason.

“Why don’t we get you something to eat?” Obi Wan offered, “There’s a refractory right by here.”

Bridger followed Kenobi to the refractory, a dining hall with long tables and holographic displays. Obi Wan couldn’t help but to smirk slightly at the shock on the boy’s face.

“Where did you think we ate?”

Ezra shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it,” he muttered, “Kanan never mentioned it.”

This was the second time Obi Wan had heard the name Kanan from the boy. At first, it seemed like the name could belong to someone Ezra cared about. But now, it seemed that this Kanan supposedly knew about the Jedi Temple.

Obi Wan considered the idea that the Caleb changed his name to Kanan. It wasn’t impossible. The Jedi were slaughtered, according to Ezra. If Obi Wan were to go into hiding, he would certainly change his name.

Obi Wan put a small amount of food on a tray and handed it to Bridger. Bridger nodded and sat down. Obi Wan joined him after grabbing a small breakfast for himself.

“Okay,” Obi Wan said, “You don’t have to eat all of that if you feel sick, but try to eat as much as possible.”

Bridger nodded, wearing the face Anakin used to make when he was trying not to roll his eyes. Anakin had grown out of the habit, mainly because he didn’t see the point in resisting.

“I know how this works,” Bridger said shortly.

Despite his brusque tone, Ezra looked tired. He was wearing the look of a man who had seen too much in far too little time. A man that was so acquainted with loss and death that it might as well be an old friend to him.

Obi Wan knew that face. He saw it whenever he looked in the mirror.

Bridger took a fair amount of time to eat his small meal, but Obi Wan was nothing if not patient. While Bridger ate, he mused about what the political scheme Anakin was likely facing with Senator Amidala. As a matter of fact, Obi Wan was sure he saw dread on Anakin’s features when he took Bridger away.

Obi Wan didn’t blame him. There’s a reason why he avoided politicians for the most part, and it wasn’t simply because many were cunning actors.

Very cunning actors, it seemed, if their own chancellor turned out to be a dark lord of the Sith.

“You said before that um… he was in custody?” Bridger asked, “Um… how well guarded is he?”

“We have five Jedi guarding his cell, and a clone squadron with them—” Bridger’s face became so horrified that Obi-Wan stopped. “What is it?”

Bridger dropped his fork and gripped the table tightly. “You have clones guarding his cell?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said honestly, not sure what the problem was, “Is there a problem with that?”

Bridger nodded. He was trembling from head to foot. “Can he, uh, talk to them?”

Obi-Wan was taken aback by this specific question, but he answered it immediately, “Of course not. Not unless someone opens the door and he speaks while it is open.”

Bridger relaxed marginally, but panic still electrified his blue eyes. “You need to get the c-clones away from him.”

Obi-Wan did his best to quell his own rushing panic. He still wasn't sure what the boy was talking about, but Bridger had the most contact with Sidious. Already reaching for his com link, he asked, “Is there a specific reason? Because many of us will feel safer in our beds—”

“You won’t be in your beds if you don’t get them out!” Ezra’s shout sounded more like a panicked gasp. “I need to tell you, but I can’t—”

“I have a data pad,” Obi-Wan said, pulling the object out of his pocket, “Can you write what you need to say so badly?”

Ezra nodded. He let go of the table and grabbed the data-pad and pen from Obi-Wan. The next few minutes were tense as Ezra slowly wrote down something in a barely perceivable scrawl. Obi-Wan actually had to sit next to Ezra and grab him by the shoulder in order to keep him in the moment.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, “If you need to stop—”

“I need to do this,” Ezra said through gritted teeth, looking as though each breath pained him.

At long last, Ezra handed the data-pad to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan squinted down at the untidy scrawl, doing his best to decipher it. Finally, Obi-Wan managed to figure out what it said. Chips in Clones Order 66 Kill all Jedi.

“Ezra,” Obi-Wan said, his voice wavering, “Do you mean to tell me that if clones are given Order 66, they have chips that will cause them to kill the Jedi?”

Ezra nodded, sounding like he was choking on air. Obi-Wan massaged the boy’s back as he reached for the com-link faster than he believed possible.

“Master Fisto, I need you to move all of the clones away from the cell block immediately." Obi-Wan's voice had the rush of panic one might hear in a battle. Fortunately, this was exactly the sort of imminence that needed to be conveyed. 

“He is currently being interrogated,” Fisto said, “Wouldn’t it be unwise to call off our best security?”

Wonderful. Of course the Chancellor was being interrogated right as Obi-Wan gave his warning. Any moment, those doors can open, and he can say the words. “The clones are your worst security,” Obi-Wan said, getting to his feet and making sure Ezra followed him out of the refractory, “You need to get them away from the Chancellor!”

Ezra’s already horrible breathing hitched, sending a sharp pang into Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Very well,” Fisto said, “Commander Fox, take your men and—” Static.

Damnit, damnit, damnit. Obi-Wan called Master Unduli, practically running down the hallways.

“Are you with the younglings?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes, what—”

“Get them to safety,” he said, “No time to ask, just keep them away from any clones.”

Obi-Wan didn’t wait for her reply. He stopped running in front of the training room, looking in to see if Ahsoka was still in there. She was.

“Ezra, I’m going to leave you with Ahsoka, okay?” Obi-Wan gently grabbed the panicking boy by the shoulders. “You did wonderfully, and now I need you to stay safe.”

Ezra managed to nod. Ahsoka managed to notice that Obi-Wan and Ezra were standing at the door. She turned off her lightsaber and jogged toward them.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Hopefully nothing,” Obi-Wan said, “but I don’t want to take chances. Stay with Ezra, stay away from clones, understand?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Why do we have to stay away from clones—”

“No time to explain! Just stay put!” Obi-Wan was already running back down the hall, finding the nearest route to the prison.

He turned went onto the universal frequency. “Any and all Jedi, there are chips in your clones; extract them from your commanding officers immediately!”

Force, please let them get out of this alive.

“How is it?” Anakin asked Padme. He told Ahsoka to continue training, but he decided to have mercy on her and not take her to the Senate building, where he was now.

Padme sighed, looking exhausted. “Well, we’ve finally gotten over the fact that the Chancellor’s been arrested. Many are demanding a trial.”

“Has the Council said their part yet?” Anakin asked.

“Master Yoda came in earlier,” Padme nodded, “He explained the situation with Ezra and the fact that Palpatine was a Sith Lord. Some were swayed, especially since Palpatine is Dooku’s master. Others think it’s ridiculous.”

“He is having a trial,” Anakin said. He sighed, messaging his face. “It’s so strange. Yesterday, I considered the man a good friend. Now, I want nothing more than to punch his face in.”

“That’s understandable,” Padme assured Anakin, “I feel the same way. To think that ten years ago he tricked me into making him Chancellor.”

Rage showed on his wife’s face before she smoothed it back out into a colder expression. She took a deep breath.

“Anyway, after being shown the video of Palpatine fighting the Jedi, I called into question of needing new leadership. The Senate took a vote, and of course, the majority wants Palpatine gone. We trust the Jedi to win the war; we can’t have a lightsaber wielding monster killing them when confronted with the truth.”

“Have you started the election?” Anakin asked.

Padme nodded. “Senator Bail Organa has been nominated, as well as Senator Mon Mothma. Some others have also been nominated, but those two are the main contenders.”

Anakin nodded. “Those two are good friends of yours, right?”

Padme nodded. “I hope one of them win,” she said, “Think of all the good we could do.”

Anakin smiled and rested a hand on Padme’s shoulder. “Things are going well,” he assured her.

Anakin tried not to think about what Ezra had told the Council. About the fact that he came from a time where all of the Jedi had been slaughtered? Had they completely avoided such an outcome? Somehow, Anakin didn’t think so. Ezra had clearly been desperate to tell them something but had been completely unable to do so.

Anakin hoped that they weren’t too late.

Suddenly, his com-link beeped, and Obi-Wan’s voice came through. “Any and all Jedi, there are chips in your clones; extract them from your commanding officers immediately!”

What?

“Anakin, what was that?” Padme asked, panic obvious in her voice, “Chips in the clones?”

“I need to get to Rex,” Anakin said. He pressed his com-link. “Rex?”

“What is it General?” Rex asked, sounding very sane. Anakin wondered why Obi-Wan was panicking so much.

“Take yourself and as many high-ranking clones as possible to the med-bay. You need chips removed from you. I’ll be with you in a second.” He pecked Padme on the cheek headed out of the senate building.

“Yes sir,” Rex was saying, “but… what chips are you talking about?”

“I wish I knew,” Anakin said, “But Obi-Wan made it sound pretty important, so that’s top priority.”

“Of course, sir.”

Anakin had a bad feeling about this.

“Ezra, what’s going on?” Ahsoka asked.

Ezra couldn’t breathe. He could barely think. Why hadn’t he found a way to tell them sooner? Was it happening all over again? Did Ezra go into the past just to achieve nothing? To cause the slaughter to happen sooner?

“Ezra!” Ahsoka snapped.

Ezra flinched, but Ahsoka successfully brought him out of his spiral.

“Sorry,” Ezra said. He massaged his chest, it felt like his heart was going to kill itself from beating so fast. All of his injuries ached more than ever, and a prevailing feeling of hopelessness sunk into every fiber of Ezra’s being. “Oh force. I think it’s started.”

“What’s started?” Ahsoka asked, “What’s this that I just heard Obi-Wan say on the coms? What chips? What’s wrong with the clones?”

“The clones don’t have chips in them!” Ezra screamed, “Stop, please stop!”

The burning didn’t stop. It kept going, and Ezra screamed so loudly he thought his voice was going to stop. He wanted it to end. He wanted to—

“Ezra, deep breaths,” Ahsoka said. She grabbed onto Ezra’s shoulders. “Count to ten, do what you got to do, but you need to answer me.”

This. This was the Ahsoka Ezra knew. This was the Ahsoka that didn’t back down, that didn’t leave a problem unsolved, that made sure the job got done. This was the no-nonsense voice that Ezra heard Ahsoka use in battles, while fighting inquisitors, while using orders.

This might not be his Ahsoka, but she was so close that Ezra felt himself slammed back into the moment.

“The Jedi,” Ezra gasped, “The Jedi, they’re all going to be killed by the clones. The clones have—” Ezra choked on the words.

“Chips?” Ahsoka prompted. She let go of Ezra suddenly, horror spread across her features. “You don’t mean—”

Ezra nodded. “He’s being guarded by a squadron of clones, but that means—”

“He? You mean the Chancellor?” Ezra flinched. “Sorry. Why was he arrested in the first—oh, oh. Oh Sith.”

Sith is right.

Ahsoka’s face hardened. “We need to get Rex. If he’s got one of those chips, I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Ezra blinked in surprise. “Master Kenobi told us to wait here!” he exclaimed as she started heading toward the door.

“I’m not hiding,” Ahsoka said, “Come on, you’re coming with. Do you still have a lightsaber on you?”

Ezra nodded, touching the cold surface of the lightsaber and jogged to catch up with Ahsoka. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“If things are as bad as you say, Obi-Wan will be the least of our worries,” Ahsoka said grimly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, yay! Apologies for any inaccuracies, especially now that comments are off and no one can point them out anymore. I'll probably turn comments back on soon; I was just super miserable last Wednesday, so I'm taking it slow.


	5. Ezra Wasn't the Only One on that Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why won’t this kriffing lift go?” Ahsoka hissed.
> 
> An all too familiar voice replied, “Perhaps a little patience will favor you greatly, Commander Tano.”
> 
> The doors closed immediately after, and Ezra felt the familiar jolt of the lift moving up. He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t dare breathe. Ezra tightened his hand around the lightsaber on his belt, trying to feel grounded and safe with a weapon in his hand.
> 
> “Captain Thrawn!” Ahsoka said, sounding far too pleasant for Ezra’s liking, “What are you doing here?”

Ahsoka and Ezra boarded a shuttle and headed toward Anakin Skywalker’s star destroyer. It was _so strange_ to think that these were the ships that belonged to the Republic. That Ezra would walk around on a star destroyer and he would be on the good-guy’s ship.

They landed in about five minutes. Ahsoka looked like she might combust from waiting. Ezra felt like he might stop breathing and drop dead if things didn’t slow down soon.

As it went, things _did not_ slow down.

The moment the shuttle hit the ground, Ahsoka practically flung herself out of the vehicle and sprinted toward the lift. Actually, it seemed like everyone was sprinting around. Even though the docking bay was much emptier than it probably was usually, people seemed to rush around more than was probably typical.

They stepped into the lift. There was some other officer in there, but Ezra had spun around to face the door so quickly that he didn't see who it was. Ahsoka rammed the button repeatedly.

“Why won’t this kriffing lift _go?”_ Ahsoka hissed.

An all too familiar voice replied, “Perhaps a little patience will favor you greatly, Commander Tano.”

The doors closed immediately after, and Ezra felt the familiar jolt of the lift moving up. He didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t dare breathe. Ezra tightened his hand around the lightsaber on his belt, trying to feel grounded and safe with a weapon in his hand.

“Captain Thrawn!” Ahsoka said, sounding far too pleasant for Ezra’s liking, “What are you doing here?”

Of course, _of course,_ Thrawn would be here. Why wouldn't he be? Thrawn was on the Chimera with Ezra, it made sense that he would also be jettisoned into the past. Except it seemed that Thrawn didn't land in the Chancellor's office. 

“I’m merely observing the events that are unfolding,” Thrawn said. His voice was exactly how Ezra remembered. Always curious, always passive, always complacent to the lives _ending around him_.

“What about your troops?” Ahsoka asked.

“I discovered the chips inside my troopers and suspected their true purpose. I had them removed long ago.”

Confusion washed over Ezra. Why would Thrawn do that? Had Thrawn known? Clearly. But… why would Thrawn try to stop the destruction of the Jedi? Was this Thrawn even _Ezra’s_ Thrawn? And why would he only remove the chips in _his_ troops? Why hadn’t he told everyone before?

Ahsoka opened her mouth—probably to voice Ezra’s own questions—but Thrawn interrupted her.

“Excuse my interruption, but may I ask who your Jedi companion is?”

Ezra’s heart stuttered, and a shiver crawled down his spine. Thrawn knew. There was no way he didn’t. Thrawn knew who he was.

Still, Ezra didn’t dare turn around and face his old enemy.

“Oh,” Ahsoka gestured to Ezra, “this is Ezra Bridger. We found him yesterday.”

Ezra hated the fascinated curiosity in Thrawn’s voice, the purposeful ignorance. “Oh? And how did you happen across him?”

Ezra forced himself to speak. “I’m right here,” he said through gritted teeth.

The lift door opened, and Ahsoka stepped out into the command bay immediately. Ezra went to follow, eager to escape from Thrawn.

Thrawn followed him.

“My apologies, Commander Bridger,” Thrawn said, oozing charisma, “How did _you_ happen across General Skywalker?”

Ezra couldn’t deal with this. _Count to ten. Note your surroundings. Breathe._ Thrawn was a phantom of his past. Why couldn’t he leave him alone? Ezra quickened his pace and tightened his grip around his lightsaber.

“None of your business,” Ezra ground out, joining Ahsoka in her conversation with a clone trooper.

“—all the higher ups have had their chips removed,” the clone trooper said, “We’re working through the infantry now.”

That helmet looked familiar.

“Thanks Rex,” Ahsoka said, “I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”

 _Captain Rex_ nodded with a small smile. “Same to you, Commander.”

Ezra couldn’t believe it. Rex looked so different. Well, he supposed that made sense, Ezra wasn’t even born in this time. Still, it was insane to see the soldier he fought beside so young and uptight.

The lift doors opened, and Anakin Skywalker stepped through, looking rattled. Ezra didn’t exactly blame him.

“Ahsoka, what are you doing here?” Anakin said, “I thought you were training in the temple!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “That was before Obi-Wan dropped Ezra on me and told me to stay put, and then Ezra told me that there was a plot to kill the Jedi—”

“Kill the Jedi?” Rex exclaimed, “What plot?”

“The plot of the Chancellor,” Thrawn supplied. Ezra flinched and gripped his lightsaber harder than ever before. He had forgotten that Thrawn was there. He still refused to look at the Chiss. “He planted chips in the clones to kill the Jedi when given a certain directive.”

“What?” Anakin and Rex said simultaneously.

“I would never betray the General.” Rex slashed his arm through the air. “How could you possibly say that?”

“How do you know this?” Anakin asked, crossing his arms.

“I have suspected for many months now,” Thrawn admitted, “but I found that I could not voice my suspicions.”

And _that,_ that was what made Ezra spin around at the formal Grand Admiral, fuming.

“You found you _could not voice your suspicions?”_ Ezra knew he sounded crazy. He knew he sounded hysterical. Ezra didn’t care. “Thousands of people could die and you refused to say anything about it?!”

Thrawn looked exactly how Ezra remembered him. His uniform was gray, but that was the only difference. His face did not change from its peaceful serenity at Ezra’s accusations.

“It would’ve been short-sighted of me to speak up initially,” Thrawn said, “I was a new ‘alien’ commander in the Republic. If I had accused the chancellor, I would’ve been accused of treason and locked up. The chips have been written off before; I did not wish to cause a fruitless commotion.”

“So instead you lie down and let the Emperor take over the galaxy all over again,” Ezra hissed, “What a wonderful alternative.”

“Chancellor Palpatine—” Ezra flinched. “—is far cleverer than you give him credit for. Undoing his masterpiece would take years’ worth of effort. I was waiting to rise in the ranks before attempting to undo his plan. Taking preemptive action would have dire consequences, as I see you have already learned.”

 _“Masterpiece?_ You call manipulations and lies a _masterpiece—”_

“I think there’s something I’m missing here,” Rex interrupted.

“You and me both, Rex,” Skywalker replied, “But now’s not exactly the time or the place.” He turned to Ahsoka and pointed at her in the way Hera might point at Ezra when he disobeyed her. “When Obi-Wan tells you to stay put, you _stay put.”_

Ahsoka scoffed. “While the world seems to be burning around us? Yeah, right.”

Skywalker did not look impressed. “I don’t care what’s happening. Obi-Wan tends to know what’s best, and you shouldn’t ignore his wishes.”

“Like you don’t?”

“I lost my arm because of my stubbornness!” Anakin shouted, “I don’t need you getting hurt!”

“I can take care of myself!” Ahsoka exclaimed, “Stop _babying—”_

“Incoming transmission,” Rex said suddenly, “Unknown source.”

“Close the doors,” Anakin commanded. Rex complied, and with a deafening shut, the doors to the communications room were closed. Only Rex, Anakin, Thrawn, Ezra, and Ahsoka were in the room now.

“You have your chipped removed, Captain?” Thrawn confirmed.

Rex nodded. “Of course.”

Skywalker took a deep breath and massaged his temple. He gave the holoprojector a nasty look before turning back to Ezra. “Ezra, do you need to leave?”

Ezra shook his head, giving an intrigued-looking Thrawn his best glare. “I’ll be fine.”

Rex nodded and accepted the transmission. A hooded figure appeared on the display; Ezra recognized him instantly.

_Feel the force flow through you; there is no fear, only serenity; deep breaths; he can’t hurt you here._

Ahsoka grabbed his hand, and Ezra squeezed it tightly. He pushed back his revulsion at this show of weakness. He couldn’t bring himself to care that Thrawn was in the room and Sidious was on the holographic display.

“Execute Order 66.”

Rex scowled. “I don’t think so, you dang sleemo.” He shut off the call. Ezra let out a hysterical snort.

And suddenly, Ezra heard voices. Shouts. Panic. Lightsabers. Blaster bolts. Screams. Death.

Ezra clutched his chest, which felt like it was about to explode. Anakin and Ahsoka didn’t look like they were faring better.

Rex took off his helmet. Ezra hadn’t even noticed him putting it on. “I’ve blocked all transmissions from that source,” he said. He noticed Skywalker massaging his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“Excellent work, Rex,” Skywalker said, “At least we managed to prevent _something.”_

Ezra noticed he was still squeezing Ahsoka’s hand, and he let it go quickly. Ahsoka, to her credit, did not immediately move to get the blood flowing again, even though Ezra must’ve cut off the circulation.

“Considering that Master Kenobi managed to send out his warning about ten minutes in advance, I would say that a great many Jedi got the inhibitor chips out of their commanding officers in time. This greatly increases their chance of survival,” Thrawn said. He was still staring at Ezra like he was an interesting science experiment. Ezra looked away.

Thrawn continued, “With prior knowledge, I believe all the younglings are in a safe position, and the padawans have a higher chance of survival than their masters. In total, I believe there are a great deal of survivors.”

“A great deal isn’t enough,” Ezra growled, “People still _died.”_

“But it’s better than last time,” Ahsoka offered weakly. She glanced at Ezra imploringly. “Right?”

Ezra looked over at Skywalker, who was running his fingers through his hair. Still Skywalker. Not Vader.

“Right.” Ezra’s voice was barely audible, and it cracked, but it was still enough to slightly cheer the dark atmosphere.

Skywalker looked over to Thrawn. “Remind me why you’re here again? Not that it isn’t always a pleasure, of course.”

Ezra detected the smallest amount of sarcasm in those words.

“I merely wished to see how you were handling the situation, General Skywalker,” Thrawn said pleasantly.

Yeah, right. More like Thrawn was curious to see if Anakin turned to the dark side again.

Anakin probably saw Ezra’s sour look because he glanced between Ezra and Thrawn. “And you know Ezra?”

Thrawn glanced at Ezra with a slight flash of irritation. Ezra did _not_ wince.

“We are… old acquaintances.”

“You’re from the future too, aren’t you?” Ahsoka asked. Neither of them denied it.

“From the future?” Rex exclaimed. He looked almost relieved. “Well, now I _know_ that this is all one convoluted nightmare.”

“If only,” Anakin muttered. He headed toward the lift. “I’m going to see if I can’t help the other Jedi.” He turned to Ahsoka. “ _You_ are going to _stay put.”_

Ahsoka scowled. “You can’t—”

“You will find that I _can_ ,” Anakin said firmly, “Stay here.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms and looked away with a huff. “Fine.”

Anakin nodded and stepped into the lift. Ezra could hardly believe what was happening. Jedi were still dying. Clones were still raising their blasters against their generals.  
Ezra spun toward Thrawn, his chest heaving.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?!” Ezra screamed.

“I implore you to look at yourself, Bridger, and I think you will find the answer for yourself.”

Revulsion twisted in Ezra’s stomach. “So, you’re a coward.”

“I am a strategist, as I’m sure you remember,” Thrawn said.

_“You follow a long history written by the Jedi where they chose what they believe to be morally correct, instead of what is strategically sound.”_

“You just don’t care,” Ezra hissed, “As long as you get what you want, who cares about all of those lives?”

“You give me too little credit.” Thrawn took a step closer to Ezra, who immediately forced himself not to take two steps back. “As I told you, I had a plan to prevent the genocide. What was yours? March up to the Chancellor and defeat him single-handedly? Hubris defines many tragic heroes.”

_“Poorly trained children, like yourself.”_

Ezra felt like he took a slap to the face. “I _didn’t—_ you failed!”

“Are you certain you are accusing me? Or rather, you are accusing yourself?”

Cowardly. Selfish. Failure. He was a coward for being afraid of shadows. He was selfish, for prioritizing his own mentality over telling everyone everything. Failure for not being enough. Ezra clenched his hands into fists, allowing his long nails to dig into his palm.

“Maybe I am,” Ezra hissed, “but wherever I’ve failed, so have you.”

“None of that is true,” Ahsoka interrupted, “I’ve only known you for a few hours, but you're anything but a coward, Ezra.”

Ezra wished he believed that. Ahsoka reached for the com on her wrist. “Barriss, are you there?”

Static. “I’m here,” came a whisper, “Master Luminara and I are hiding the younglings.”

Ahsoka glanced at the lift that Skywalker had left on and headed toward it. Ezra quickly followed. He didn’t want to be left alone with Thrawn, even if Rex was also there. “Where are you? Let me help.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to give away our location,” Barriss said, “What if someone’s listening in?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll just find you myself.”

Ezra watched as Ahsoka closed her eyes and reached out with the force. She was probably searching for a group of younger signatures, or maybe she could close in on her friend.

“Found you,” Ahsoka said. She dashed toward the shuttle at a similar speed to when she dashed _out_ of the shuttle earlier. Ezra struggled to keep up; the exertion from the day was getting to him.

In the hidden room, Barriss waited. The time had come. The moment had arrived. The Jedi were at their weakest. She was in a room full of their young. If only her troublesome master weren’t here, she could make her move now.

It seemed she wouldn’t have to wait much longer, however. Master Luminara was meditating, searching through the force for any younglings they might’ve left behind.

When her master stood up, Barriss knew her opportunity had come at last.

“Have you found anyone?” Barriss asked.

Luminara nodded. “Yes, I will go out and find them. You stay here and protect the younglings.”

Barriss bowed. “Of course.”

She waited patiently for Luminara to leave and shut the door behind her.

There was no time to waste. Ahsoka had called ten minutes ago; she could be here any minute now. She needed to act fast.

Barriss turned on her lightsaber.

Ahsoka and Ezra had passed Master Luminara on their way to the hiding place. Ahsoka didn’t have time to worry about that. She wanted to help her friend. It was better than standing around, watching Ezra blame himself for the literal tragedy unfolding around them.

Anakin had told Ahsoka about the time traveling thing earlier. Ahsoka had been surprised, but after she met the literal embodiments of the force, there was very little she refused to believe in at this point.

She was almost there. Ahsoka heard a lightsaber turn on from behind the door. Had someone found Barriss already? Did she need help?

Ahsoka opened the door and felt her heart plummet. The humming of the lightsaber was the only sound that filled the room.

Barriss was alone. She was alone with the younglings. Barriss had her lightsaber raised. One of the younglings—Cal Kestis—was flinching, looking ready to try to stop Barriss’s lightsaber from hitting him.

Ahsoka reached out with the force and pulled Barriss’ lightsaber out of her hand. Barriss hesitated for only a second before reaching and pulling Ezra’s lightsaber off of his belt.

Ezra glanced down and gave Ahsoka an apologetic look. Ahsoka tossed Barriss’s lightsaber to him.

“Watch over the younglings,” she said, “I’ll take care of Barriss.”

Ezra nodded and got out of the girls’ way.

Ahsoka and Barriss circled each other, and confusion pounded at Ahsoka’s head. Why would Barriss do this? What had possessed her to kill the younglings? They were children, for crying out loud!

“Have you lost your mind?!” Ahsoka cried out, “What were you doing?”

Barriss bared her teeth. “The Jedi are corrupt,” she hissed, “I would be doing the galaxy a favor by killing off their young.”

Barriss ran at Ahsoka and aimed a strike for the head. Ahsoka blocked immediately, shifting on her feet.

“They’re _children!”_ Ahsoka pushed Barriss back. She made two strikes toward Barriss with both of her lightsabers. Barriss blocked both of them.

“They’ve been brainwashed.” Barriss started multiple strikes in a row. Ahsoka leaped into the air. She landed as far away from the younglings as possible.

“So, you kill them,” Ahsoka muttered darkly as their lightsabers clashed again. She pushed Barriss hard, and Barriss shuffled back, snarling. “I love your moral high ground.”

Barriss turned off her lightsaber and held out her hand toward the younglings.

“Wait—!”

One youngling floated into the air, gasping for breath. Ahsoka watched in horror as the child began reaching for their throat, as if something were strangling them.

“What are you doing?!” Ahsoka screamed, “Let go!”

Barriss silenced Ahsoka with a dark glare. Ezra took a step forward, holding Barriss’s lightsaber.

“One more step and the child dies,” Barriss said, squeezing harder than before.

“Okay, okay,” Ezra said, raising his hands up in surrender. Ahsoka turned off her lightsabers.

The grip loosened.

Ahsoka’s heart pounded, and she did her best to think calmly. Hostage situations. She learned about this. You had to keep the attacker calm. You had to hear things from their perspective.

“Why are you doing this?” Ahsoka asked quietly.

Barriss’s scowl softened slightly. “Because I have come to realize what many people in the republic have come to realize,” she said, “The Jedi are the ones responsible for this war.”

Ahsoka forced herself not to interrupt. Ezra, fortunately, seemed wise enough not to say anything either.

“We have become the villains in this conflict,” Barriss continued, “We have fallen so far into the dark that they only thing we care about is violence. It was only a matter of time before the Republic fell.”

Ahsoka allowed the words to digest. The Jedi, villains? That was ridiculous.

Or was it? As a youngling, Ahsoka was taught that the Jedi were the keepers of the peace, but all Ahsoka has ever been since she was a padawan was a soldier. Had the Jedi really fallen so far?

To Ahsoka’s surprise, it was _Ezra_ who spoke first.

“You’re right,” he said, “The Jedi are not what they should be. They were too quick to join the war, too quick to let their anger fuel them, too quick to leave their ideals as peacekeepers.”

Barriss’ hand loosened marginally.

“And believe me, Barriss,” Ahsoka said, “I’m all too aware of my role as a soldier instead of as a peacekeeper. I’m all too aware of the violence that seems to follow us as Jedi.”

“And yet you still follow them blindly,” Barriss whispered, “Why?”

“How can we change,” Ezra asked, “If there are none of us left? How can we make things better if we leave?”

Barriss looked at the struggling child. Ahsoka found herself praying. _Please, let them go, please._

Suddenly, the door opened, and Barriss’s hold loosened more. Ahsoka didn’t hesitate. Reaching out, she pulled the youngling out of Barriss’s reach. Ezra turned on his lightsaber and pointed the weapon at Ahsoka’s former best friend.

“Barriss,” Master Luminara said, standing in the doorway, “What are you doing?”

Barriss glared at Ezra’s blade, now pointed at her neck. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Ahsoka cradled the youngling close to her as she looked at the shadow of her best friend. Ahsoka wished Rex was right. She wished that this was all just one convoluted nightmare.

She closed her eyes tightly. Opened them.

It was real. Barriss was still a shadow. Ahsoka didn’t think her old friend would ever return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a few of the Thrawn novels, so I'm shedding him in a somewhat sympathetic light. While Thrawn disapproved of some of the Jedi's moral code, he never really seemed to have anything against them. 
> 
> Also, when Ezra's talking to Barriss, he's thinking about what Yoda told him in season 2 of rebels. 
> 
> Obi-Wan will be in the next chapter. He was going to be in this chapter, but I wanted to get the chapter out today, so you'll have to be satisfied with your 3k word chapter.


	6. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “General Kenobi, you are hereby sentenced to execution for treason against the Republic.”
> 
> As he suspected. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe things could have fallen so far compared to just days before. It was almost as if the disaster at Mandalore was a bad omen for the things to come.
> 
> Obi-Wan allowed the force to hum around him as he reached for his lightsaber. “I don’t think so.”

Obi-Wan reached the prison in record time.

When he stepped through the doors, he was immediately met with familiar clicking. Two clone troopers were pointing their blasters straight toward him.

“General Kenobi, you are hereby sentenced to execution for treason against the Republic.”

As he suspected. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe things could have fallen so far compared to just days before. It was almost as if the disaster at Mandalore was a bad omen for the things to come.

Obi-Wan allowed the force to hum around him as he reached for his lightsaber. “I don’t think so.”

The troopers fired. Obi-Wan leaped into the air, flipped, and sliced the troopers’ blasters in half. They clattered to the floor.

One trooper reached for his comm link. Obi-Wan reached for the force and _pushed._

Both troopers flew backward into the wall with a grunt. Then, they too collapsed onto the ground. Obi-Wan winced for them.

“Apologies,” he said, “But I’m sure you prefer a concussion over death.”

He continued to dash down the hall, gripping his lightsaber tightly and allowing the force to penetrate his every movement. Obi-Wan needed to be prepared for the number of clone troopers he was about to face.

If he was lucky, the Chancellor would still be held up in his prison block. Obi-Wan did not think he was going to be that lucky. However, he held onto the hope that some Jedi were still alive and fighting. He couldn’t abandon them to their deaths.

He reached the fortified cell-block. The door was already open. He could not hear the sounds of a struggle.

This was _not_ a good sign.

Still, Obi-Wan turned on his lightsaber and stepped into the room. Two blaster bolts immediately flew toward him. Obi-Wan deflected them immediately. Two clones cried out and toppled over. Obi-Wan noted with regret that he may have killed those clones.

There was no time to contemplate the matter, however. More clones were already firing on him. Though, Obi-Wan saw that there was already a large collection of troopers unconscious or dead on the ground.

Obi-Wan deflected the next barrage blaster-bolts with much less ease than the first two. With regret, he deflected as many as possible toward their respective troopers. A necessary evil for survival.

 _A necessary evil._ There was a time when the Jedi scorned such thinking. Now, it was practically their philosophy.

To their credit, the clones did not go down easily. Obi-Wan constantly had to jump and twist and roll in order to dodge their attacks. They attempted to back Obi-Wan into a corner. Obi-Wan thwarted such attempts, trying to find the high-ground.

Unfortunately, no such high-ground existed in this area, and Obi-Wan was left pushing himself off of the metal walls to launch himself at the clones.

In the end, Obi-Wan was in a hallway with dead or unconscious clones littered all over the floor. Commander Fox was lying closest to him. Obi-Wan hoped that he was not among the dead.

No other Jedi rose from among the bodies, and Obi-Wan found himself strangely alone. Still, Obi-Wan tried his best to step over the bodies, searching for his fellow Jedi.

He found Jedi Masters Gallia and Tiplar inside Palpatine’s cell. No blaster wounds were visible on their bodies, but Obi-Wan saw palpable bruising on their necks. They must’ve been choked to death.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, refusing to allow grief to choke _him._

Obi-Wan found Tiplar’s sister beneath the bodies of a few clones. Master Fisto was not lying far from her.

All four of them were dead. The fifth Jedi was nowhere to be found. Obi-Wan could only assume that they followed the Chancellor. That Jedi was likely also dead.

How could everything deteriorate so quickly? Obi-Wan has fought in a war for many years now, but never had he felt such an overbearing feeling of loss as he had in the past couple of days.

Obi-Wan pressed the button on his wrist. “Anakin are you still there?”

Relief all but crushed Obi-Wan with the reply. “Yeah, I’m here,” Anakin said, “I was just heading out to see how I could help. What’s the current situation where you’re at?”

“Not good, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan said, “The Chancellor has managed to escape, and we have suffered the losses of Jedi Masters Gallia, Tiplar, Tiplee, and Fisto.” He sighed. “Likely more at this rate.”

Anakin swore.

“Did you get your clones unchipped?” Obi-Wan asked, making his way back toward the door.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, “Rex even managed to get a snort out of Ezra.”

Obi-Wan’s racing thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt. Why was Ezra with Anakin? “Pardon?”

“Oh yeah, about that,” Anakin said, his voice suddenly dark, “I think you’ve forgotten how rebellious my padawan is.”

 _Dammnit._ Obi-Wan should’ve seen this coming. “I told them to stay put!”

“Yeah, and they didn’t listen,” Anakin said, “I’ve told her to stay on the ship. Maybe she’ll listen this time.”

“Maker, Anakin, you expect her to listen? I expect she’s halfway toward the temple at this rate.”

“Well, I guess we’re both fools,” Anakin sighed, “We’ll just have to pray she listened this time. Rex is in there with her, hopefully he’ll keep her from doing anything dumb.”

Obi-Wan found this line of thinking horrifically optimistic.

“Did you get Cody unchipped?” Anakin asked suddenly, “Since you’re not with him and everything?”

Obi-Wan nodded. He was almost out of the prison building now. “Yes, I commed him after I commed all of you. Hopefully, everything went smoothly. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the Jedi Temple, troopers are already flocking there.”

“I’ll be right with you.”

For twelve-year-old Cal Kestis, the day actually started pretty well. Early morning meditation went smoothly, and he managed not to get too overwhelmed when practicing his psychometry.

All of that changed, of course, when Master Unduli ushered them all into one of the more hidden rooms in the temple. Cal didn’t know what was going on. None of them knew what was going on. Still, they could tell that it was important, so they followed Master Unduli and Padawan Offee quickly.

In the safe room, they stood silently, waiting for something to happen. Cal’s stomach twisted into a million knots in anticipation, and he forced himself to take deep breaths and allowed the force to flow through him. A Jedi must stay calm. There is no fear, only serenity.

It helped a little. Then, a sudden disturbance rippled through the force. Cal could hear cries of pain and betrayal. There was death _everywhere._

Something horrible was happening.

His fellow younglings were clutching their heads and chests. Some even moaned.

“What’s happening?” one asked Master Unduli.

Master Unduli looked scared. “The unthinkable,” was all she said. Cal thought that was extremely vague and unhelpful.

Padawan Offee said nothing at all; she didn’t even look upset. She must be an extraordinary Jedi, to mask her emotions like that.

And then, Master Luminara left. It was probably fine, though. After all, they still had Offee to protect them. And they could help; it wasn’t like they had done no training. Cal was already twelve years old.

When Padawan Offee turned on her lightsaber, Cal knew immediately that something was wrong. He just wasn’t sure what. No one was attacking them. The only sound in the room was the humming of the blue lightsaber in Offee’s hand.

“Padawan Offee?” Cal asked nervously, “What’s wrong?”

Something frightening flashed in Offee’s eyes, and Cal took a couple of steps back. He froze when Offee raised her lightsaber toward Cal.

All the rest of the younglings were shrinking away. Cal was isolated, alone. Offee was going to kill him for some unknown reason. Had he done something wrong? Maybe there was just something behind him?

Cal knew it wasn’t true. If he weren’t so shocked, maybe he could’ve used the force to stop the blade. But the thought didn’t even occur to Cal. So, as the lightsaber came down, Cal raised his arms up in a weak defensive position.

Cal didn’t die. The anticipated burning sensation never came. As a matter of fact, Cal’s death was interrupted but a sudden pull in the force. Offee’s lightsaber flew out of her hand and landed in _Padawan Tano’s._

Offee reached out and took a lightsaber from the hilt of another Padawan’s belt. Cal immediately scrambled backward as the two girls began to fight.

The new Padawan stood guard. Cal felt much safer with him than he ever did with Offee.

Fear suffocated him when a youngling a few years younger than him, Janner, was choked and lifted into the air. Cal might’ve lived, but would Janner? Would Padawan Tano save him?

His heart beat against his chest, as he watched the life nearly get squeezed out of his peer. Then, Offee’s grip loosened. They were getting through to her! Hope buoyed Cal, but he didn’t once take his eyes off of Janner’s elevated form.

When Master Unduli came in and Tano rescued Janner, Cal thought he might collapse with relief. He even started swaying a little.

The Padawan Cal didn’t recognize grabbed Call gently by the shoulders.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Carelessly, Cal grabbed the boy’s un-clothed arms.

_“We love you Ezra.” “Filthy Loth Rat.” “If all you do is fight for your own life, then your life is worth nothing.” “Come with me and learn the ways of the force, you can learn what it truly means to become a Jedi.” “Let’s just say we’re eternally even.” “I paint what I see.” “Ahsoka. My name is Ahsoka Tano.” “Now, I am called Maul.” “I don’t need it, just like I don’t need you.” “What you need, you already have. Unfortunately, you seem to be letting it all go.” “Kanan’s gone.” “You can’t save your master, and I can’t save mine.” “Whatever happens next, happens to the both of us.” “Palpatine is not a sith lord.” “Anakin Skywalker.”_

It was all too much. Cal couldn’t make sense of it all.

Ezra panicked when the kid he was trying to comfort suddenly collapsed in his arms.

“Ahsoka!” he said panickily, “He collapsed! What do I do?”

Ahsoka crossed the room toward him. “Did he touch you?” she asked, frowning.

Ezra frowned. “Yeah? What does that have anything to do with it?”

Was he contagious with something? He kind of doubted it. Sure, he was a wreck, and he was also probably due to collapse _himself_ any minute now. But, somehow, he doubted that his ever-growing weakness had anything to do with the youngling’s sudden collapse.

Ahsoka sighed and gently took the kid from Ezra’s arms before resting him against the wall.

“Cal has psychometry, which means that he can sense something’s history by touching them.”

Horror hit Ezra like a cold gust of wind. “You mean—”

Ahsoka nodded. “It’s really no wonder that he collapsed.”

That was the truth. Ezra’s life in the past few months alone would be enough to make anyone collapse. That, added with the rest of his crappy childhood? Ezra was glad the kid, Cal, didn’t immediately start screaming.

“Will he remember it all?” Ezra asked guiltily. He didn’t want a kid to bear all of his burdens with him.

“Probably not,” Ahsoka said, “He likely only got small flashes anyway. It won’t be as bad as you’re probably thinking.”

Ezra sagged in relief, and he rested against the wall next to Cal. “You can’t drag me anywhere else,” Ezra told Ahsoka, “I think I might faint if I stand up at this rate.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. She glanced at her wrist. “I have to comm Anakin, anyway.”

Ezra grinned weakly. “Good luck.”

Ahsoka snorted. “I’m going to need more than luck.” She clicked her comm. “Hey, Anakin, how’s it going?”

Ezra could hear Skywalker’s reply from where he was resting.

“ _Ahsoka,”_ Skywalker said dangerously, “You’d better tell me you’re still on the Resolute.”

“I’m still on the Resolute,” Ahsoka said obediently, “Anyway, Ezra and I just saved the younglings’ lives.”

“ _Ahsoka_!” Skywalker said sharply, “Where are you?”

“In the Jedi Temple,” Ahsoka said, rolling her eyes.

“You were supposed to stay on the ship!”

As if from a distance, Ezra could hear Obi-Wan say, “I told you she wouldn’t listen.”

Ahsoka began pacing back and forth. “Anakin,” she said more quietly this time, “Barriss tried to kill them. She tried to kill the younglings.”

Silence.

Ezra didn’t know what Ahoska’s relationship with Barriss was; Ahsoka almost never talked about her life back at the temple. Still, judging from her interactions with the miliaran, Ezra could tell that they were at least friends.

“Ahsoka, I’m… I’m so sorry,” Skywalker said, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really,” Ahsoka sighed, “But thanks for offering.”

“As soon as we’re done making sure everyone in the temple is safe, I’ll come to you,” Skywalker promised, “Just… stay put this time. Please.”

Ahsoka nodded and sat down next to Ezra. “Alright, Master.”

With a beep, the call ended. Ezra and Ahsoka sat next to each other in silence, both of them trying to digest all that had happened so far.

Cal woke up not long after.

“What happened?” the young boy asked.

Ezra smiled apologetically at him. “You touched me. Sorry.”

Understanding dawned on Cal’s features, and he looked at Ezra sadly. “Ezra Bridger,” he said, “You’re from the future.”

“I’m really sorry,” Ezra said again, his voice cracking, “You didn’t need to see all of that.”

“It’s okay,” Cal said. He looked up. Ezra looked up as well, but there was nothing particularly fascinating about the white ceiling. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“That was all Ahsoka,” Ezra said, “I was just kind of there.”

“Don’t cut yourself short,” Ahsoka snapped, “If it weren’t for you, everyone in this room would be dead.”

Both Cal and Ezra flinched at the thought.

Ezra appreciated Ahsoka’s sentiment, but it didn’t exactly stop the guilt that threatened to crush him. Sure, he helped to save some lives, but Jedi were still dying.

This was such a mess.

Despite the chaos that seemed to be happening all around him, Ezra actually dozed off for a few minutes. Or half an hour. Maybe a couple of hours. Ezra didn’t exactly know.

A nightmare with Maul, Thrawn, and Sidious combined were enough to get Ezra awake and reaching for his lightsaber. The white ceiling reminded him he was safe. It took Ezra a few minutes to calm down.

What he _did_ know was that when he woke up, Ahsoka was talking to Anakin Skywalker on the other side of the room. Ezra slowly got to his feet and met them.

“I just can’t stop thinking about what she said,” Ahsoka was saying quietly, “Maybe the Jedi Order is a little corrupt.”

Skywalker said nothing, looking lost in thought. Eventually, he said, “I need more time to think about this.”

It was only after, Skywalker said this that he noticed Ezra standing right next to him. “Ezra!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t see you there. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“How long have I been asleep?” Ezra asked.

“Maybe an hour?” Ahsoka said, “You really should sleep some more.”

Ezra shook his head as he swayed slightly, not wanting to revisit nightmares. “An hour should be fine. I’ll be fine.”

As if Ezra summoned him, Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into the room, looking thoroughly frazzled. When he saw Ezra, he gave Skywalker a sharp look.

“I thought you said he was asleep,” Master Kenobi said.

Anakin lifted his hands up in surrender. “Hey, he was asleep two minutes ago. He literally just woke up.”

“We were trying to get him to go to sleep again,” Ahsoka provided helpfully.

“Thank you, Ahsoka,” Anakin said, “See? We’re trying.”

“I don’t need sleep,” Ezra said stubbornly, “The galaxy is falling apart even as we speak and you want me to just go to sleep and pretend nothing is happening?”

“We’re not asking you to pretend,” Obi-Wan said gently, “We’re asking you to take care of yourself.”

“I’m _fine_.” Ezra stumbled slightly where he stood and ended up leaning against Skywalker for support.

“You’re sleep deprived.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “I will not give up on this, you know.”

“Well, neither am I.”

“We could always knock him out,” Anakin suggested.

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The idea is to help him heal, not to provide him with another concussion. However, I will store the idea away for whenever you’re about to do anything foolish.”

Ahsoka snorted. Ezra had bigger things to worry about than sleep.

“Do you know how many people have—” The word stuck in his throat.

“We do not have an official count yet,” Obi-Wan said, “But I will say that the survivors have outnumbered those we have lost.”

That was a good thing, but that there were losses at all made Ezra feel sick.

“You did well,” Obi-Wan said, resting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, “You need to rest now.”

Ezra looked away, unable to stand looking into Kenobi’s far too forgiving eyes. “People still died,” he whispered. He tightened his hands into fists. “I was supposed to fix things, and people still died.”

“Unless I am very much mistaken, you were not _supposed_ to do anything,” Obi-Wan said, “The force did not demand that you fix things. You _chose_ to. That alone is commendable.”

Ezra scowled. Why didn’t Kenobi understand?

“If I had told you sooner—”

“You’re traumatized,” Anakin said firmly, “You could barely tell Obi-Wan when you did. It’s a miracle you managed to tell us at all.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then, what is the point?” Obi-Wan asked patiently. Always patient. Always understanding.

“I’m a weakling! I can’t do _anything!_ I can barely stand!” Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, trying to press back against the burning tears threatening to spill over. “I shouldn’t have been sent back. I should’ve just died on that ship.”

Ezra opened his eyes when he felt someone wrapping their arms around him. Looking down, he saw none other than Cal Kestis looking up at him.

“Don’t say that,” Cal said, “That’s not fair.”

Obi-Wan squeezed Ezra’s shoulder gently. “Ezra, listen to me. You are anything but weak.”

“Yeah,” Skywalker agreed, “You’re one of the strongest people I know. That you’re still standing is proof.”

“But you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Obi-Wan said, “So I’m begging you to let yourself rest.”

Ezra sagged. “Okay,” he mumbled, “okay.”

Cal let go of him, and Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Ezra’s shoulders as he gently led him to a mat to lie down on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Just dumps a whole bunch of angst and comfort into a chapter and stirs it all around. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	7. Clovis is An Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra could hear Skywalker’s raised voice as he was leaving the room. He tried not to wonder what that meant.
> 
> “Okay, so Skywalker definitely doesn’t like Clovis,” Ezra said.
> 
> Ahsoka nodded. “Agreed.” She glanced nervously behind her. “We should probably make sure he doesn’t kill him.”

The next few weeks were hectic, to say the least.

The Jedi order was not completely obliterated. Far from it. However, it was distinctly weakened. This left the Republic in a _very bad_ position in regards to the war.

Senator Bail Organa was elected as Chancellor, in the end. The first thing she did was call a vote for whether a peace treaty should be extended to the Confederacy… again.

Unforunately, the Confederacy was spurning any attempts of a peace treaty, much to Padme’s despair.

Count Dooku was the figure head of the Confederacy, so Padme hadn’t expected for him to be willing for the Republic and the Confederacy to come to an agreement. Then again, at least the Republic had gotten rid of _their_ corrupt leader, so Padme had hoped that maybe the Confederacy would respect that to give them a chance.

Sadly, hope seemed to be a dying breed in this time of war.

Anakin wasn’t around much these days. It was understandable. After everything went to heck, there was more than enough clean-up for him to handle. The war hadn’t exactly stopped yet, so there were still battles to be fought, but on top of that, Anakin said that a new organization had risen up with the Separatists.

“Inquisitors,” Ezra explained one day over a private dinner. Padme did not fail to notice how tightly he was gripping his fork. “They hunt down Jedi. I didn’t think they would show up this time…”

“That’s alright, Ezra,” Anakin said tiredly, “These Inquisitors are nothing compared to some of the crazy people we fight. Ventress could probably give them a run for their money.”

Padme couldn’t help but to smile at the confused look Ezra gave him over the mention of Ventress’ name.

Despite what Anakin said, Padme knew that he was really exhausted. On the nights that he did manage to make it home, he usually fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress. Padme couldn’t exactly blame him; she was doing the same thing.

Padme and Obi-Wan both began getting meat on Ezra’s bones, but it wasn’t exactly a fast process. Ezra was obviously getting impatient at how little time he actually used for training.

He filled in his time by going to all of the Senate meetings. When Padme asked Obi-Wan if that was okay, he simply said,

“It’ll give the boy something to do, and that’s the most we can ask for at this point,” he said, “Similar to Anakin, Ezra needs to feel like he’s doing something to assist the cause. If that manifests in attending all of the Senate meetings, I am not particularly inclined to stop him as long as it does not interfere with his training.”

Anakin, who was with them at the time, said, “Just make sure that nothing triggers a panic attack. He still refuses to tell us what his triggers are.”

As a matter of fact, they all knew very little about Ezra Bridger’s past life. They knew he fought in a Rebellion. They knew he had bad history with Commander Thrawn. They knew he trained under Caleb Dume. They knew he had suffered loss.

As anyone can see, that’s not a lot of information.

As the war was going strong, however, Padme was being sent to Scipio to get funding for a relief mission. It should be a simple enough journey, but Ezra looked reluctant to see her go.

“I’ll be back soon, Ezra,” Padme promised the boy.

Ezra rolled his eyes. “I know that. I just—” He hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s been… nice, hanging out with you and all.”

Padme gently rubbed Ezra’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure Obi-Wan can keep you busy in the time being.”

Ezra sighed. “Yeah, but I’m still not allowed into battle, and Master Kenobi still has to participate in those. You’re literally the only person who doesn’t leave most of the time.”

Padme pursed her lips. It was an uncomfortable truth that most of the adults in Ezra’s life had other responsibilities. She didn’t have to like it, but it was true.

“Maybe… you should try making some friends,” Padme suggested, “The younglings don’t typically go anywhere. Maybe you can help them out.”

Ezra seemed to think about it. “Maybe,” he conceded, “Cal’s been taken in by Master Tapal, though. It’s kind of infuriating to see kids seven years younger than you be allowed into war-zones.”

Padme had never thought of it that way before. It was true, though. Children far younger than Ezra were being allowed to fight in this war, but Padme shuddered at the idea of Ezra being allowed back onto an active battlefield. He just seemed so _fragile_.

But Ezra was only this way because of trauma. Prisoners of war _were_ a thing. Could young padawans all over the republic be suffering the same trauma as Ezra, but being forced to suffer in silence?

Padme put those thoughts aside for later and focused on the problem standing right in front of her.

“Well, I promise I’ll be back soon,” Padme said, “You still have my apartment key?”

Ezra nodded and pulled the chip out of his pocket. Padme nodded in approval.

“Good,” she said, “If you’re not comfortable in the temple for whatever reason, that’s always open to you.”

Relief flashed in Ezra’s eyes. Obi-Wan explained to Padme that Ezra seemed to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of force signatures in the temple, and while it was fine while he was awake, Ezra found it hard to fall asleep. So, while they were slowly trying to get him to adjust to the temple, they agreed it couldn’t hurt for Ezra to crash at Padme’s place on bad days.

“Don’t forget to feed yourself when Obi-Wan’s away,” Padme instructed, “And you need to sleep.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Eat, sleep, meditate. I’ve got it.”

Padme smiled. “Good.”

When she arrived at Scipio, she realized that her brief mission wasn’t going to be so brief after all.

Of course, Clovis had to be there. Clovis had already shown his true colors to the Separatists; Padme wasn’t about to be hoodwinked again. She heatedly told the banking clan that she wasn’t going to work with him.

But then, Clovis _snuck into_ her room before telling her that the banking clan was corrupt and that there was no money in the accounts.

Padme knew Clovis was telling the truth—at least, she was _pretty sure_ Clovis was telling the truth—but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Should she help Clovis? Could this lead to the disaster?

Then again, if the banks collapsed, that would only lead to disaster.

She called Chancellor Organa.

“Clovis?” he asked angrily, “That Separatist spy?”

“It’s different this time,” Padme sighed, massaging her temple, “I’m almost certain he’s telling the truth.”

“You’re a wise woman, Senator,” Organa said, “If you really think that Clovis has the best interests at heart, I am willing to allow you to help him. However, you must promise to approach this situation with the utmost caution.”

Padme nodded. “Of course.”

At first, everything went according to plan. Padme got the information in the vault, and she and Clovis now had proof of the banking clan’s corruption.

Of course, Padme getting arrested had never been a part of that plan.

Anakin and Ahsoka eventually came to pick up Padme. When Padme tried to see how Clovis was doing, all four of them got attacked by a bounty-hunter.

When they were all safely on the ship, Padme started when she saw Ezra sitting in the driver’s seat of the cockpit.

“Ezra?” Anakin exclaimed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“R2 was taking too long,” Ezra said exhaustedly, “So I took the wheel. You’re welcome.”

R2 very defensively said that he had everything under control, and that just because he didn’t have fast human legs didn’t mean he wouldn’t have made it in time. 

Ahsoka snorted. Neither Anakin or Padme were so amused.

“No, I mean, what are you doing _here?_ In this ship?” Anakin said, pointing to the ground.

Ezra winced. “Well, I heard that Senator Amidala was in prison, so—”

“So, you decide to stow away on my ship?” Anakin interrupted, “Do you realize how reckless that was?”

“It was only supposed to be a retrieval!” Ezra protested, “I’m so sick of sitting around doing nothing, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay!”

“With Anakin, things are never that easy,” Padme sighed. She held up a hand to silence a still angry Anakin. “What’s done is done. Nobody was hurt.”

Anakin sagged slightly. “That’s not the _point_.”

“Well, I’m just impressed you actually managed to do it without getting caught,” Ahsoka said, “What’s your secret?”

Ezra grinned slightly. “I know how to mask my force signature. You have no idea how handy it came with avoiding—” His eyes suddenly landed on Clovis. “Who’s that?”

“I am Rush Clovis,” Clovis said, holding out a hand to shake. Ezra took it. “I’m an old friend of Padme’s.”

Ezra gave Padme a strange glance. Padme chose to ignore it.

“Well, welcome aboard, I guess,” Ezra said. He got out of the pilot’s seat. “I’m assuming you want to drive.”

“Obviously,” Anakin agreed. He patted Ezra gently on the shoulder. “Just, don’t stow away again.”

Ezra smiled. “No promises.”

Ezra wasn’t stupid. Neither was Ahsoka for that matter. The minute they were free from the meeting over what to do with Clovis; they immediately found a secluded corner in the hallway.

Ezra could hear Skywalker’s raised voice as he was leaving the room. He tried not to wonder what that meant.

“Okay, so Skywalker definitely doesn’t like Clovis,” Ezra said.

Ahsoka nodded. “Agreed.” She glanced nervously behind her. “We should probably make sure he doesn’t kill him.”

“Okay, how about this?” Ezra suggested, “I’ll stake out Clovis, watch him from a distance like an unofficial bodyguard.”

“Risky…” Ahsoka mused, “But it’s not a bad idea in all. Besides, you might even catch him being a traitor, which would definitely come in handy.”

“You should probably stick with Skywalker,” Ezra said, “Try to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Eventually, he’s probably going to tell me to stop following him.”

“I’ll be there if he seeks out Clovis,” Ezra said. He scowled. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I trust this Clovis guy either, but I don’t Skywalker to do anything he’ll regret.”

Ezra didn’t want Skywalker to lead himself down the path of destruction. Palpatine might be out of the picture, but Ezra still felt a jolt of fear whenever Skywalker got angry like this.

“Alright, it’s a plan,” Ahsoka said. They shook hands. “If anything happens, com me or Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t worry,” Ezra said, “I will.”

Anakin tried not to groan. Just when he managed to get Ahsoka to stop preaching to him about how he shouldn’t do anything stupid about Clovis, now Obi-Wan has to be on his tail too?

“Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Ezra?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan grouchily, “ _Your_ padawan snuck onto my ship today.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, I intend on speaking to him about that tomorrow. However, I haven’t seen him for the most of the day. I assumed he was with you or Ahsoka.”

Anakin shook his head. “He hasn’t been with me _or_ Ahsoka. Ahsoka’s been following me nonstop, telling me not to do anything stupid.”

“How wise of her,” Obi-Wan said, “I do hope you take her words to heart.” He moved toward the door. “I’d better make sure Ezra is safe. Do behave yourself while I’m gone.”

Ezra was so relieved when Padme and Clovis finally left the opera and arrived at Padme’s apartment. Ezra simply stayed outside the door as Padme and Clovis did actual work. He couldn’t hear their conversation, of course; Ezra had no intentions on eavesdropping.

Ezra swayed slightly on his feet, trying not to be too bored as he waited for nothing to happen. Actually, despite his slight boredom, this was the most interesting thing he had done in a while. It reminded him the old ops he would do with the Ghost Crew.

Ezra used to complain so much when he got stuck on guard duty. Now, he was just glad he got to do anything at all. There was an interesting thrill in having a goal again. At least, a goal that didn’t rely on the fate of the entire galaxy.

Skywalker barely noticed Ezra standing outside of the living room door.

“Hey, Ezra,” Skywalker said tiredly, “Obi-Wan’s looking for you. You should probably com him and tell him that everything’s okay.”

Ezra couldn’t stop Skywalker from opening the door. He tried to follow Skywalker, but as they entered the room, Ezra knew all was lost.

Clovis was forcing himself upon Padme.

Ezra looked up at Skywalker only to see his face darken. “Get away from her,” Skywalker snarled.

Ezra’s heart picked up when he felt an all too familiar cold fill the room, and Skywalker began force-choking Clovis.

“What are you doing?!” Ezra shouted, trying to grab Skywalker’s arms and pull them away.

Skywalker only shoved him back, causing Ezra to stumble and fall onto the hard floor. Skywalker slammed Clovis into the wall with the force. Ezra flinched when Skywalker turned on his lightsaber.

“Anakin, no!” Padme cried out.

Of course, Clovis just had to open that idiot mouth of his. “No, why don’t you try fighting like a man without your Jedi tricks?”

“Are you an idiot?” Ezra cried out hysterically.

Skywalker tossed aside his lightsaber. “Oh, it would be my pleasure.”

Ezra tried to put himself in front of Skywalker, but that only earned him another shove. This time, Ezra was sure something bruised as he hit the ground.

Padme quickly rushed over to him as Ezra slowly lifted himself off of the ground. “Both of you stop this!”

Ezra’s heartrate spiked when Skywalker said, “You don’t have a say in this.” Padme gently grabbed Ezra by the shoulders and squeezed them protectively.

Clovis, who just lived to be an idiot, said, “I thought you said he didn’t have feelings for you.”

Despite Padme’s increasingly panicked shouts, and Ezra’s increasingly panicked breaths, Skywalker wouldn’t let up. Neither would Clovis.

It wasn’t until Skywalker used the force again, causing the cold to creep up Ezra’s bones that Ezra finally screamed, “STOP IT!”

Skywalker froze, and Padme’s guards finally came in. Ezra could barely hear what was going on, the panic was settling in.

Ezra didn’t even notice that they had moved rooms until he smelled perfume and abruptly realized that Padme was wrapping her arms around him in a motherly embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said, trying to hold back the tears, “It was my fault. I was supposed to stop this.”

Padme hugged Ezra closer. “No,” she said, “Don’t you dare say this was your fault.”

As Ezra leaned into Padme’s embrace, he tried not to think about when Hera would do the same thing as she sang him to sleep after a bad nightmare.

He missed Hera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't originally going to do this arc, but then I watched it and was like "Opportunity?" so I decided that it would be a good transition into other plot points. 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone. :)


	8. It's a Kriffing Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know what it feels like.” Ezra looked up at Anakin. “I know what it feels like to be so angry that you lose control of who you are.”

“How’s Ezra?” Anakin asked as soon as Padme entered the living room, “And Clovis, of course.”

He sounded distinctly less worried for Clovis than for Ezra. Padme wasn’t sure she could blame him for that _one_ thing. She could easily blame him for everything else.

“How do you think?” she asked coldly, not at all trying to hide how _furious_ she was at her husband.

Anakin’s face crumbled. “Padme, I—”

Padme raised her hand, silencing him. “I don’t want to hear it.” She clenched her fists, trying to reign herself in before deciding that she had no desire to reign herself in. “I just—” Padme’s voice shook as she spoke. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Anakin pleaded, “I promise Padme, I would never—”

A memory of a younger Anakin flashed across Padme’s mind. _“I killed them all. Not just the men, but the women and the children too.”_

“You should be apologizing to Ezra—” Padme pointed violently toward the bedroom Ezra was in. “—if I trusted you to be around him!”

Anakin flinched, but Padme was beyond caring. “What happened to the man who stayed up all night for the sake of a traumatized child?!”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Anakin pleaded.

Padme scoffed. “That much is obvious.”

Anakin massaged his temple. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right,” Padme said coldly, arching her back, “It won’t happen again, because we can’t be together anymore.”

There was a pause as Anakin digested the words. Padme continued before he could say anything.

“We went into this marriage knowing that the consequences would be disastrous to the both of us.” That was a time when everything seemed so simple, so easy. They had both been young and naïve. “Well, this clearly isn’t working out.”

“Padme—”

“ _No,_ Anakin. Ezra trusted you, _I_ trusted you, and you gave him a full-blown panic attack. How can you possibly try to justify that?”

Anakin didn’t look Padme in the eyes. “I can’t,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t think so.” Padme turned around, unable to look at Anakin any longer. “I’m sorry Anakin, but I can’t see you anymore.”

As she started walking away, she could hear Anakin mumble, “I’m sorry too.”

Anakin walked toward his speeder, ready to head back to the Jedi temple.

Force, he had screwed up. He had screwed up so badly. Padme was right to break things off with him. What was he thinking, hurting Ezra like that?

Anakin stopped when he felt a familiar force signature standing near him. _Fear, hurt,_ and _regret_ radiated off of it. Honestly, Anakin was afraid to turn around.

He did anyway.

Ezra stood about ten feet away from him. He was wearing one of Anakin’s robes again, which made him look thinner than he actually was these days. His eyes were red and puffy, and he looked exactly like he had woken up from a nightmare.

It seemed that Anakin was the nightmare this time.

Anakin wanted to look away, but he didn’t. He had to face what he had done. Because he _had_ done this. In his fury at Clovis, he had pushed Ezra backwards on his road to recovery.

And he had been doing _so well_ too.

Anakin forced himself to speak. “Ezra, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Ezra interrupted quietly. The small crack in his voice seemed to echo in the quiet room. Anakin did not miss how Ezra was keeping his eyes carefully trained on the floor.

They stood in silence for a moment, and Ezra clenched his fists before he spoke again.

“I know,” he said again, “I know what it feels like.” Ezra looked up at Anakin. “I know what it feels like to be so _angry_ that you lose control of who you are.”

Anakin swallowed, trying not to think about the horrors he committed in his rage. “I doubt you’ve done anything as bad as I have.”

Ezra scowled slightly and took a deep breath. “When-when I was sixteen, my master, Ahsoka, and I were trying to find a way to destroy the Sith.”

Shock flowed through Anakin’s veins. Ezra _never_ talked about his past. And now he was going to tell Anakin after Anakin _hurt_ him?

Ezra was obviously oblivious to Anakin’s confusion, because he continued talking. “We went to Malachor.”

“Malachor?” Anakin asked, “Isn’t that—”

“A Sith planet? Yeah, I know.” Ezra glanced away for a moment. “It was something about ‘in order to defeat your enemy, you must know them’ sort of deal.”

That sounded a lot like something Thrawn would say. Anakin wondered if Ezra had heard it from him.

“Anyway.” Ezra paused before taking a shuddering breath. “We got separated early on, and I met… I met Maul.”

Maul? As in Darth Maul? As in the same Zabrak that killed Obi-Wan’s girlfriend? That Maul?

“And I don’t know, he was _helpful_ at first,” Ezra said, “He showed me how to get into the Sith temple, and we found a Sith holocron. I was under the impression that it would help us figure out how to get rid of the Sith.”

Something told Anakin that not everything went according to plan.

“I had to use the dark side to get into the temple,” Ezra whispered, “Maul helped. You know the rule.”

“The rule of two?” Anakin asked, wanting to clarify.

Ezra nodded. His adam’s apple started moving back and forth like he was about to cry again.

“You don’t have to finish,” Anakin said quickly, “Not when it’s making you—”

“No.” Ezra’s voice was hard. “No, I have to tell you this for my sake, if nothing else.”

Anakin stood silently, allowing Ezra to continue.

“So, we met up with Kanan and Ahsoka again, and we got attacked by Inquisitors. Long story short, Maul told me to put the holocron in the temple while he went to help Kanan and Ahsoka.”

Ezra smiled self-depreciatingly at Anakin. “I was an idiot,” he said softly, “The holocron tried to destroy everyone on the planet, Maul blinded Kanan, and we got cornered by a Sith Lord.”

Anakin clenched his fists, wondering where this was going.

“Well, it turned out that the Sith Lord was someone Ahsoka used to know during her Jedi days, and well, she tried to reason with him, but…”

Anakin felt his heart drop as Ezra looked away again.

Ezra was scowling now. “I got scared. I couldn’t protect anyone, and it was even my fault they got hurt!”

“That’s not true,” Anakin said immediately, “You didn’t do anything.”

Ezra shook his head. “I trusted Maul, and Kanan told me not to.”

“We all make mistakes.” It was Anakin’s turn to look away. “I’m a prime example.”

Ezra sighed. “Yeah, I know. Kanan said something along those lines too.” Ezra shifted his weight from foot to foot as he continued. “But before he said that, I thought that maybe I could protect everyone if I were stronger, and what’s stronger than the dark side?”

Anakin felt his breath get sucked out of him. How many times had he asked himself that same question? How many times had he _used_ the dark side to save someone he cared about?

Ezra let out a bitter laugh. “It’s such a kriffing trap. I ended up losing myself along the way and almost died because of it.” He stared Anakin straight into the eyes. “I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“It won’t,” Anakin said firmly.

Ezra smiled, but there was something in his eyes that implied he knew more than he was letting on.

A horrible thought suddenly struck Anakin. “Ezra, I’m-I’m not that Sith Lord that Ahsoka…”

Ezra looked away, his expression returning to a frown.

“No… you’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I'm decently happy with it.


	9. Serious Conversations are Serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra introspects. Anakin and Obi-Wan start a very important (and overdue) conversation.

Ezra was tired.

The past few months of his life felt like this strange fever dream, and sometimes he still wondered if one day he would wake up to see Hera, Sabine, Zeb, and Chopper hovering over him, telling him that he had been in a coma or something like that.

Ezra knew it wasn’t true. Everything felt far too real for that.

He didn’t know what possessed him to tell Anakin about one of his greatest failures. Well, actually, he did. He didn’t want Anakin to become Darth Vader. He didn’t want to see the heartbreak in Ahsoka’s eyes again as she fought against her master.

Ezra tried to imagine fighting for his life against Kanan.

All he could think of was Hera in his arms, reaching out for Kanan as he pushed them all back. Ezra could feel the regret, acceptance, and love radiating off of him through the force, and his body went on autopilot. He shouted for Sabine to go while Hera screamed, while the world exploded into a burst of color and heat, when his connection to Kanan vanished.

Ezra shut his eyes tightly. Kanan was _dead._ Nothing Ezra could ever do would change that. As a matter of fact, Kanan would never exist again. Not the way Ezra knew him.

Ezra took off Anakin’s robe and put his own clothes back on. He was grateful Anakin hadn’t asked why he was wearing his outer robe. Maybe Anakin had understood why Ezra had done it. Ezra didn’t think so, though, because _he_ hardly understood why he did it. All he knew was the overwhelming feeling of _safety_ that he felt when feeling the soft, dark against his skin, when smelling whatever fabric freshener Padme’s handmaidens/servants (Ezra wasn’t sure which) used to wash them.

He had done something similar, when Sabine was away. Sometimes, Ezra would miss her enough to just…take a canister of paint from her bedroom and vandalize some random part of Chopper Base. The strong smell of fresh paint had almost made it feel like she was still there, even when she was really all the way at Mandalore.

Maybe Ezra should do that again. Just, go down to the lower levels of Coruscant and vandalize something. It would make Sabine proud.

Then again, the Jedi Council would probably _not_ approve of a padawan gallivanting and breaking the law.

…Maybe he could get Ahsoka in on it. Ezra had never been big on having partner in crime back when he lived on the streets, but that was back when survival meant stabbing your friends in the back. He was pretty sure that Ahsoka wasn’t going to sell him out to Imperials.

After carefully putting Anakin’s robe back into the closet, Ezra slowly made his way to Padme’s bedroom. He stood hesitantly near the door before deciding that he didn’t want to wake her.

He turned around and headed to the kitchen. Once there, he grabbed a spare data-pad and wrote in an untidy scrawl:

_Headed back to the Temple. Don’t worry about me._

He added a little smiley face at the end of message, hoping that it radiated some of his old charm. Or _obnoxiousness_ as Zeb would call it, but that was just Zeb for you.

After his small message, Ezra left and took a speeder back to the Temple. He hated traveling at night—it reminded him too much of panicked chases and missions gone wrong, not to mention the night of the escape—but Ezra didn’t want to impose upon Padme any more than he already had, especially after that breakdown.

He hated it when that happened, when he was fine and suddenly he _wasn’t._ Sometimes, a single word, a single phrase could set him off, and suddenly he _couldn’t breathe._ Ezra hated how it made him feel so useless, so helpless, so _worthless_.

Back on the Ghost, it had taken years for Ezra to be able to look Kanan in the eyes right after he had a breakdown. Now, when he had breakdowns far more often, he couldn’t stand to look any witnesses in the eyes for at least a day.

He should be _better_ by now. Ezra shouldn’t be so _weak._

Once at the Temple, Ezra headed straight to his room and sat down on his futon, getting into his meditative position.

 _Just focus and breathe._ Ezra took a deep breath, allowing the force to flow through him. Unlike some days, the overwhelming presence of Jedi in the Temple was grounding. It was a reminder that Ezra _hadn’t_ completely failed, that there were still living Jedi, and that hope was not lost.

Well, hope had clung to some people even after the purge.

_Without hope, we have nothing._

Ezra missed his parents. He missed having the picture Sabine had found for him, the constant reminder of what their faces had looked like. On the streets, he knew he had trouble recalling more than blurred images. Could he remember their faces now? Recall them to mind?

Ezra tried, and he managed to come up with a fuzzy picture of his parent’s faces. Blue eyes, kind smiles, loving gazes.

The Jedi Council seemed to be under the impression that you can just move on from pain. That after a certain amount of time, you can just let go of your attachments and move on with your life. Or maybe, they just didn’t want you to form any attachments at all, so you don’t find yourself in Ezra’s position.

Either way, it was unrealistic. Ezra had known his parents were dead for years, and he still hadn’t stopped mourning in his own right.

He remembered when the Emperor had offered him that second chance. A chance to live with his parents again. A chance to live in peace. A chance to be _free_ from all this crap that constantly followed him.

Ezra resisted, and rightfully so. Still, he couldn’t help but to wonder what his life would be like if he had accepted. He always hated himself for it later.

Obi-Wan received a com from Anakin, reassuring him that Ezra was fine and at Padme’s place.

Still, Obi-Wan could feel unease coming from Anakin’s voice, and he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised when he asked,

“Can I talk to you when I get back? In private?”

The anxiety in Anakin’s voice was so uncharacteristic of the young man that Obi-Wan didn’t even consider saying no, not that he would’ve anyway.

“Of course, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, “I’ll be at one of the private rooms. You can meet me there.”

Obi-Wan headed to one of the private rooms in the temple set aside for meditation and private conversations among Jedi. He sat down on one of the futons and meditated, allowing the force to move through him, allowing patience to be his guide.

He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of it, if Anakin’s tone of voice was anything to go after.

Sure enough, Obi-Wan watched as the door whizzed open. Anakin stepped in, looking like the personification of stress, and swiftly shut the door behind him.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, ready to ask what was wrong, but Anakin spoke before he could let out a sound.

“I know one of Ezra’s triggers,” he said, “Other than the obvious ones, I mean.”

Obi-Wan started. That was new. Ezra kept his past under strict lock and key, making it incredibly difficult for anyone to figure out how to prevent the boy from having sudden panic attacks at potentially triggering subjects.

It wasn’t uncommon for Jedi to have triggers, especially in this time. Unfortunately, no procedure existed for victims of war shock in the Jedi Temple, but it was an unspoken truth that most members of the order had their own methods of coping.

Ezra seemed to be attempting the ‘repress it until it doesn’t exist anymore’ method. Unfortunately, that method only worked if you weren’t obviously hiding something. Ezra was _very_ obviously hiding _everything_ about his past.

So, to hear that Ezra had revealed something that reminded him of his past life was astonishing. Excellent, of course, but also nothing short of miraculous. Obi-Wan had started to believe that the young boy was going to hide everything for the rest of his life.

“And?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice a swirl of eagerness and trepidation.

Anakin ran his fingers through his hair as he paced around the room. If Obi-Wan hadn’t been so desperate to hear what Anakin was about to say, he would’ve demanded that he sit down.

“You’re not going to like it,” Anakin said, “You’re not going to like it at all.”

Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin was purposely keeping him in suspense.

“I’m sure I can handle myself,” Obi-Wan said pointedly, “Ezra should be our primary concern right now.”

Anakin nodded, sighing to myself. “Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

Obi-Wan waited, his patience getting shorter by the second, before Anakin finally looked him in the eyes and said,

“It’s Maul.”

Oh. _Oh._

Obi-Wan repressed the surge of anger that came whenever his nemesis’ name was mentioned. He repressed the memory of being helpless as Maul took the dark saber and killed Satine right before his very eyes.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t Ezra mentioned Maul the first day Obi-Wan had met him?

Obi-Wan didn’t particularly wish to speak about Maul at the very moment, but he knew he had to, for Ezra’s sake at the very least. He took a deep breath and felt the force wash over him calmingly.

“Do you know details?”

“Some,” Anakin said shortly, “I don’t want to betray his confidence, but it basically sums up to Maul tricking him and people getting hurt because of it.”

Obi-Wan repressed another surge of anger, this time for Ezra’s sake. Because _of course,_ Maul would take advantage of a child. Selfishly, Obi-Wan hoped that Maul hadn’t been tricking Ezra into furthering his plan to get revenge on Obi-Wan himself.

“Well, at least we know to be careful whenever we talk about him” Obi-Wan sighed, “And at least we know that he’s beginning to open up.”

Anakin snorted. “Yeah, but not under the most ideal circumstances.”

At the words, Obi-Wan felt something new from Anakin’s force signature. Amidst the concern and stress, _guilt_ now made itself known.

Obi-Wan gave Anakin suspicious look.

“What happened?”

Anakin was a ball of tension, looking ready to punch the wall, before he suddenly sagged. “I screwed up.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin groaned, running his fingers through his hair. “I, uh, I attacked Clovis.”

Obi-Wan jumped to his feet. “Anakin!”

Anakin winced. “I know, I know!” Anakin sighed. “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anakin, I warned you, Ahsoka warned, you, I’m sure Ezra warned you when he saw you, so what possessed you—”

“He was kissing Padme, okay!?”

A shocked silence followed the words, allowing them to echo in Obi-Wan’s head.

He _knew_ that something was going on between Anakin and Padme. One would have to be blind _not_ to see it. Still, it was strange to hear direct evidence come out of Anakin’s mouth.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan began slowly, “Kissing is not a good enough reason to attack a man.”

“I know,” Anakin said quickly, “but I saw them and my mind went blank.” Anakin sat down and buried his head in his hands. “Ezra was there,” he whispered, “I pushed him.”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped. “You _didn’t_. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan and scowled. “Would I joke about this?”

Of course, he wouldn’t. Which just made it so much worse.

“Force, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s horror outweighed his ability to yell. “He trusted you. He likely trusted you more than anyone here.”

“You know what the worst part is?” Anakin let out a humorless chuckle. “I think he _still_ trusts me. Trusts me enough to give me a cautionary tale from his past, something he refused to tell us _anything_ about until now.”

Sometimes, Ezra was incomprehensible to Obi-Wan. The sheer strength the young Jedi possessed was astounding. He had been through unspeakable horrors, and he was still somehow stronger than Obi-Wan could ever be.

If Ezra could open up about his past after Anakin betrayed his trust, then Anakin and Obi-Wan shouldn’t have to step around unspoken issues.

Obi-Wan’s horror was replaced with burning resolve.

“This needs to stop,” he said, sitting back down on his futon.

Anakin looked up in surprise. “What?”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a stern look. “No more secrets, Anakin. What’s going on between you and Padme?”

Surprise, shock, anger, and resignation radiated from Anakin through the force. Obi-Wan waited patiently for Anakin to answer.

Anakin crossed his arms and stared pointedly at the floor. “Nothing, at the moment. She reacted to the situation appropriately.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Fine, what was going on between you two _before—”_ Obi-Wan gestured vaguely in the air. “—the events of this evening happened?”

Anakin sighed. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes, Anakin, we do,” Obi-Wan said, trying to keep the frustration from bleeding into his voice, “because clearly keeping this a secret is doing more harm than good. So, either you tell me, or I’ll start guessing.”

Anakin scowled. “Fine, guess. I doubt you can think of anything worse than the truth.”

Obi-Wan went straight ahead with the suspicion he had been harboring since the start of the clone wars.

“You’re married, aren’t you?”

Anakin winced, which was as good as a confession. Not to mention Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s guilt through the force.

“The next time you marry someone behind the Order’s back,” Obi-Wan said tiredly, massaging his forehead, “Could you please be subtler about it?”

Anakin raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “How many people know?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “You’ll be lucky if most of the council doesn’t suspect. Anyone who has seen the two of you speak to each other likely suspect. Ezra and Ahsoka certainly know. And…” Obi-Wan was loath to say it. “…Palpatine likely knows.”

Anakin swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started back up so I'm going to use it as a shield as to why I haven't updated recently. (Just ignore me churning out other content elsewhere). 
> 
> This chapter was going to be longer, but I really wanted to give you guys _something_ today, so here you go. 
> 
> If you guys haven't noticed, y'alls comments are very influential, so if any of you have any fun ideas, feel free to tell me and I will decide if I want to do it. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I've turned comments back on. I would politely request you to be nice because anxiety is a jerk, and even a politely criticizing comment is a great way to completely destroy my motivation. 
> 
> You can still correct me on technical errors. And if there's anything you want to see, feel free to ask. Just avoid attacking anything already there story-wise, if that makes any sense. 
> 
> In other news, I have a [Tumblr](https://mollypollykinz.tumblr.com/) now! Check it out if you want. 
> 
> Thank you! :)


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